Chapter XI

I have been near the gates of death,
And I, once more, must there appear;
But, Lord, make sure thy servant’s faith,
To walk that shadow-vale of fear!
For thou hast spoil’d the pang, the sting
Of death and hell so fierce before,
Led captive in thy triumphing,
Thy conquest of the Conqueror;
And Faith but waits thy bidding word,
Thy spirit walking on the sea,
To leap, like Peter to his Lord,
And pass the roaring floods to Thee;
For raging waves can never tame,
Nor midnight dark, nor storms, confound
The soul that burns like naptha-flame,
The brighter for the waters round.