MOTHER, I think, if I had been
A little Jewish maid,
I often should have gone and seen
Where Jordan's waves were stayed.
It must have been so very grand
To see the ark borne through
Into the midst, upon dry land,
The people following too.
And while the priests were standing there
Upon the river's bed,
It must have banished all their fear
And made them glad instead.
And after, when they passed that way,
I wonder, did they think
The meaning of those stones that lay
So near the river's brink?
And did the children ask about
The stones in Jordan's bed,
Or why twelve more were taken out
And placed on shore instead?
You said that they were there to show
How God had brought them through,
That even boys and girls might know
What His strong arm could do.
I fear, my child, that few indeed
Who trod that goodly land,
Had hearts, from self and pleasure freed
God's ways to understand.
To us, it speaks of One who went
Through Jordan's deepest tide,
On Jesus all God's wrath was spent.
When for our sins He died.
Alone in that o'erflowing tide
A pathway He could trace;
We follow to the other side,
And find in heaven our place.
The Red Sea saved them from their foes,
From Egypt and its toil;
A type of Him who died and rose
The power of hell to spoil.
The Jordan crossed—in Canaan free,
Death's fetters broken through
In Him who rose from death's dark sea,
To bring us with Him too.
And so those stones to us declare
God's mighty power, and more,
That dead and risen in Christ up there,
Death, judgment, sin are o'er.
Twelve other stones lie hidden deep,
Beneath those waves of death,
The memory of His love to keep
For those who know its worth.
We see Him in the glory bright,
But while we know Him there,
We think of Him in that dark night,
When God forsook Him here.
Mother, if Jesus Christ passed through
That mighty flood for me,
I need not fear to follow too,
For with Him I should be.
“With Him," my child, no words can tell
The sweetness of that thought,
Before His face in joy to dwell,
And know what God has wrought.