Jeffrey Hull

Marko Rämö, FeaturePics.com


I am a lonely pilgrim,
   A pilgrim's lot I share,
To wander through this valley
    And often taste despair;
To miss some rocky foothold
   And stumble from the way,
Or lose the track in darkness
   When night has swallowed day.

I heard a fair voice calling
   From far the other side
Across a quiet river
   That ran both deep and wide;
It beckoned me, or warned me—
   My ears could scarcely tell—
Sang soft some voice of heaven,
   Or growled some fiend of hell?

Thus in a failing twilight
   I stood upon the bank
And bled out my resistance
   As fear my courage drank.
Then whispered low my Master,
   His voice devoid of wrath;
With grasp as soft as morning
   He set me on the path.

© 2007 Jeffrey Hull