Silver Deep

As pilgrims passing through this life

Of rugged, harsh terrain,

Of darkened valleys, rocky cliffs,

Or gentle meadows plain,

Oft’ times our path may lead us through

The swelling tide of sea,

Where violent storms may threaten,

And death we fane perceive.

Our faithful Master, sovereign King,

Will gently guide us through.
Holding to His mighty hand,

We’ll find His Word is true.

Then, sometimes in the journey here

We find this joy unique,

For, in the winter’s chill, we come

Unto a silver deep.

No doubt the current swift remains

And cold the tide may be,

Yet, solid is the surface of

This glassy, silver sea.

Our feet may firmly stand thereon

With not a sinking fear,

For, though the chilling cold surrounds,

The waves we do not feel.

Such is the little trials of life

We fear we’ll parish in,

But when we come up to the brink,

They’re not so hard to win.

For, though it’s deep and very wide,

The crossing is but bliss

When we, by faith, begin to walk

Upon the firm surface.

But, lest we don the shoes of pride

And think we know it all,

We still must hold the Master’s hand,

Else on the ice we’ll fall.

Copyright © Elisabeth Linzey 2013