Will Lead Me Through

The hands of time are near the twilight hour,

I do not mind or fear the growing old:

The fragrance lingers in the fading flower;

Age gives an added luster to love's gold--

When I am called to cross the Silent River

While death, the kind physician, holds my hand,

Strings of the Heavenly harpsichord will quiver

A song to welcome me to that Far Strand.

I would that I might leave with gracious etchings

Engraved by thoughts of beauty on my face;

Portrayed upon my mellowed soul the sketchings

Of artistry through giving love's embrace.

Death bids new portals open--When I go

The hand of God will lead me through, I know.