Poems (Smith)/Thoughts on Death ("God moves in a mysterious way)
For works with similar titles, see Thoughts on Death.
THOUGHTS ON DEATH.
"God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform."
He sent a meek-eyed stranger
To shield me from the storm.
She asked me, oh, so kindly,
Had I made my peace with God,—
Was I ready for the summons,
And to sleep beneath the sod.
Had I made my peace with God,—
Was I ready for the summons,
And to sleep beneath the sod.
She said the Lord had sent her
That mission to perform,—
To prepare me for His coming,
And to shield me from the storm.
That mission to perform,—
To prepare me for His coming,
And to shield me from the storm.
I replied that I was ready,
If the trumpet sound that day:
I was ready and so anxious
From earth to pass away.
If the trumpet sound that day:
I was ready and so anxious
From earth to pass away.
My darling little children
And kind friends the only tie
Would hold me to the present life
If death were drawing nigh.
And kind friends the only tie
Would hold me to the present life
If death were drawing nigh.
Some with heartfelt sorrow
Will regret with many a sigh,
When they see me passing over,
And know that I must die.
Will regret with many a sigh,
When they see me passing over,
And know that I must die.
My heavenly Father, give me strength,
Is my most earnest prayer;
Oh, waft my soul to Heaven above,—
May I Thy glories share.
Is my most earnest prayer;
Oh, waft my soul to Heaven above,—
May I Thy glories share.
I never for a moment doubt
The goodness of my God:
That He would guide me onward,
And lift the chastening rod.
The goodness of my God:
That He would guide me onward,
And lift the chastening rod.
When earthly joys all vanish,
We see our way more clear:
Then we look into the future
As we find death drawing near.
We see our way more clear:
Then we look into the future
As we find death drawing near.
Death has for me no terrors;
I long for coming day.
This world to me is dreary,
My life is fading fast away.
I long for coming day.
This world to me is dreary,
My life is fading fast away.
I trust that He'll receive me
At Heaven's golden gate:
I'll await on earth His bidding,
Whate'er may be my fate.
At Heaven's golden gate:
I'll await on earth His bidding,
Whate'er may be my fate.
When life becomes so cheerless,
Without one ray of light,
And know we're drifting onward,
Unto the darker night.
Without one ray of light,
And know we're drifting onward,
Unto the darker night.
But a voice is whispering ever—
"Press onward, stricken heart!
There's rest for you in Heaven,
From every grief you'll part."
"Press onward, stricken heart!
There's rest for you in Heaven,
From every grief you'll part."
That kind and gentle stranger
Who would prepare the way,—
May I meet her in Heaven
At no far distant day.
Who would prepare the way,—
May I meet her in Heaven
At no far distant day.