The dark stream of evil is flowing apace,
And man is still walking a stranger to grace,
While daring rebellion is on the increase,
Which mar not my joy, which disturb not my peace,
For my heart is engaged with its own happy song;
The Lord who has loved me will come before long;
It may be tomorrow, or even to night,
That I shall behold Him in unclouded light!
The house, and the land, and the wealth in the chest,
Bring plenty of trouble, but never bring rest;
The Lord is my portion! and when I have grief,
His rich consolation gives instant relief.
I list not to doubts that my reason may bring,
I trust to His mercy, and cheerfully sing―
It may be tomorrow, or even today,
That Christ will descend to call us away.
I know not the way He will bring it about,
But I do know He’ll come with the archangel’s shout;
I know not the hour, whether morning or night,
But I’m waiting with patience, with untold delight.
Though thickly around me sad errors may roll,
This one blessed hope is the stay of my soul―
It may be tomorrow, or even today,
That I shall be called to His presence away!
The world in its wisdom may scorn and deny
The worth of the One upon whom I rely;
But from Him all blessing and holiness flows,
And in Him I have the most blessed repose.
The night doses in, and the morn re-appears,
And thus it has been for a number of years;
But still on the hill-tops of hope I would stay,
And eagerly look for the breaking of day!
Tomorrow may come, with its sorrows and joys,
And the evil which often my pleasure alloys,
And still find the world with its poor little aim,
And the scoffer in nature and practice the same;
May it never find me looking earth-ward for bliss;
My hope is above, my rejoicing is this―
It may be tomorrow, or even this eve,
That I, for my place in the glory, shall leave.
Tomorrow may come, with its sickness and death,
And I may be called to relinquish my breath,
But that makes me happy, because I am sure
My soul with the Lord will be sweetly secure:
But faith takes the word as its own proper range,
And looks not for death, but that wonderful change,
From weakness and sickness, to vigor and might,
From evil and darkness, to beauty and light.
Adorable Saviour! by faith I descry
The long-looked-for day of redemption draws nigh,
When the shame and contempt, and the grief shall give
To the holy rejoicings, the triumphs of grace! [place
Till we from this terrible desert are caught,
My heart would rejoice in this comforting thought―
It may be tomorrow, or even tonight,
The fullness of glory will burst on my sight!
G. C. Walsall.