My former hopes are fled,
       My terror now begins;
I feel, alas! that I am dead
       In trespasses and sins.

Ah, whither shall I fly?
       I hear the thunder roar;
The Law proclaims Destruction nigh,
       And Vengeance at the door.

When I review my ways,
       I dread impending doom:
But sure a friendly whisper says,
       “Flee from the wrath to come.”

I see, or think I see,
       A glimmering from afar;
A beam of day, that shines for me,
       To save me from despair.

Forerunner of the sun,
       It marks the pilgrim’s way;
I’ll gaze upon it while I run,
       And watch the rising day.

Ordained Servant Online, June, 2025.