Dear Lord, this day is so unlike
The day I feared that it would be!
I wonder much, I said last night,
What it will bring to me.

What does it mean, — this haunting dread?
What added sorrows wait me more,
And o'er my trembling spirit spread
Their shadows thus before?

I seemed to stand upon a brink,
Yet could not see the gulf below;
It dizzied me to try to think,
As with some coming blow.

Dear hands I saw on either side
Reach out as for a final kiss;
And clasping each o'er each I cried,
Not this one, Lord; not this!

I cannot bear one parting more;
My heart is at the point to break!
As if Thou didst not know before,
Dear Lord, to Thee I spake.

And then I slept, the sleep of fear,
And waked in sad bewilderment;
The day, the dreaded day, was here;
What trial would be sent?

Up to the zenith rose the sun,
And now I watch its bright decline;
The hours have passed me one by one;
No added griefs are mine!

Still must I feel the piercing sword
Of what hath been or yet may be;
But from that nameless terror, Lord,
At least I am set free.

And slowly, slowly, yet how sure,
Returns the restful consciousness
That in Thy care I am secure,
And chastening, Thou dost bless.

Not more than I can bear I know
Thou, dearest Lord, on me wilt lay,
And I can learn of Thee to go
Unfearing on my way.