I'm standing, Lord: There is a mist that blinds
my sight.
Steep, jagged rocks, front, left and right,
Lower, dim, gigantic, in the night.
Where is the way?
I'm standing, Lord:
The black rock hems me in behind,
Above my head a moaning wind
Chills and oppresses heart and mind.
I am afraid!
I'm standing, Lord:
The rock is hard beneath my feet; I nearly
slipped, Lord, on the sleet.
So weary, Lord! and where a seat?
Still must I stand?
He answered me, and on His face
A look ineffable of grace,
Of perfect, understanding love,
Which all my murmuring did remove.
I'm standing, Lord:
Since Thou hast spoken, Lord, I see
Thou hast beset-these rocks are Thee!
And since Thy love encloses me,
I stand and sing.
