John Wilson

1785-1854 / Scotland

The Lake Lay Hid In Mist, And To The Sand

The Lake lay hid in mist, and to the sand
The little billows hastening silently,
Came sparkling on, in many a gladsome band,
Soon as they touched the shore, all doomed to die!
I gazed upon them with a pensive eye,
For on that dim and melancholy strand,
I saw the image of Man's destiny.
So hurry we, right onwards, thoughtlessly,
Unto the coast of that Eternal Land;
Where, like the worthless billows in their glee,
The first faint touch unable to withstand,
We melt at once into Eternity.
O Thou who weigh'st the waters in thine hand,
My awe-struck Spirit puts her trust in Thee!
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