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 rejoicesIn 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 storyEnds, 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 morrowChrist 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 frailestThrough 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!