Poems (Elgee, 1907)/The dying christian

by Jane Francesca Agnes Elgee

For works with similar titles, see The dying christian.

THE DYING CHRISTIAN.

Y the streams of living water,
     Rest, my daughter.
Soul, I would not stay thy flight;
Jesus waiteth at the portal—
        See, poor mortal,
Open stand the doors of light.

Let me go, life's tempest braven,
        To the haven;
There, beside the Saviour's throne,
Where the choir of seraph voices
        Now rejoices
In eternal jubal-tone.

By thy earthly Virgin Mother—
        Saviour, Brother,
Thou hast known the gloom of death;
Through its shadows now I wander,
        Angels yonder,
Keep me even as Jesus saith!

Now I see the distant glory—
        Life's poor story
Ends, as it began, in pain.
Earthly form, doth it grieve me
        Thus to leave thee?
No, for Christians die to reign.

What availeth life's brief sorrow?
        Ere the morrow
Christ will change to smiles my sighs;
Dreaming, pass we through death's portal—
        Then, immortal,
Waken up in Paradise.

Soul-Redeemer, by Thy power,
        In this hour,
Keep faith's light from burning dim;
I am strong when Thou art near me—
        Saviour, hear me!
Guard me with Thy Cherubim.

Thou the martyr's crown hath borne,
        Shame and scorn,
All to save my soul from sin;
Thou the hosts of death assailest,
        Sinner frailest
Through Thee rises conquering.

Prince of Life! my soul's endeavour,
        Now and ever,
Be to sing Thy glorious love;
Death is conquered! Thou hast given
        Peace from heaven—
Soon I'll chant Thy praise above!