I am not sorrowful, yet I often think,
There is not far to journey, ere I rest;
I feel my weary feet are near the brink
Of the deep river with the shining crest.
I am not careful, for it is His care,
Whose child I am, to order what shall be;
And I am resting gladly, anywhere,
That He shall lead, and still abide with me.
And life seems all to lie behind me now,
It is so full of changes following fast;
The bourne seems almost gained, and round my brow
Hints of the coming brightness shine at last.
So I’m waiting very quietly for my dear Lord to come,
Or send some trusty messenger to call me sweetly home;
It is not long I’m tarrying, I am resting in His love,
And I know a mansion waits me in my Father’s home above
M. B.