My soul, blithe, untested,
Came to the river Despair,
I had no thought my merry path,
Would ever lead me there,
I looked unto my Savior's face,
And saw His gentle nod,
And wordless knew there was
no mistake in the little path I trod.
The depths were dark and murky,
I knew I could not stand,
But trusting I'd not be swept away
While I held my Savior's hand.
Quietly I stepped,
Into my baptism of pain.
Into waters where many
much stronger then I were slain.
Unspeakably cold,
No ray of visible light.
And yet remarkably I found,
I did not die of fright.
The pain was not less sharp,
I felt each unyielding wave,
Yet found that my Savior's arm,
Was truly "not short to save".
His grasp, so firm and tender,
Never new I better His love.
Nor even while drinking my gall,
Tasted such wondrous joys from above.
How truly He was with me,
Oh would take a lifetime to explain.
How love, hope, and mercy,
Can triumph in the midst of pain.
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