But this...

From yonder brink a pool of pink

Expands into a sea of gold

And none of us can dare to think

Of what this mighty tide may hold

But simply trust the One who wills

The dawn to break across the hills

Oh, who will rest beneath its crest

Ere twilight sweeps the wooded ridge

Twixt earthly sod and heaven-best

And who can know what mercies bridge

Life’s gaping void of mortal woe?

Ah this, by God’s kind grace we go

The hour consumes time’s jasmine blooms

Washing its summer to a shore

Where pantomime of season-rooms

And petals strewn across its floor

Never utter one guarantee

But this; its end, eternity

© Janet Martin