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

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