Amanda Lowman Bartholomew

19

 
      I shudder no more, 
      For the plash of the oar 
Falls in rhythmical cadence so sweet, 
      It seems but a part 
      Of the Peace in my heart, 
As the water flows nearer my feet. 
 
      Nor yet do I shrink, 
      Tho', close to the brink, 
The breath from the river grows chill; 
      For thro' the deep roll 
      His voice in my soul 
Bids the Waves and all fears be still. 
      In the fast ebbing sand, 
      Uplifted I stand 
By a Hand pierced for me long ago; 
      My sins all confessed, 
      On His bosom I rest, 
He will bear me safe over, I know.