The World Is Growing Old
I AM so weary, Master dear,
So very weary of the road
That I have travelled, year by year,
Bearing along life’s heavy load,
It is so long, it is so steep,
This highway leading to the skies,
And shadows now begin to creep,
And sleep lies heavy on my eyes.
I am so weary, Master dear,
So very weary of the road,
I pray I may be very near
That snow-white City built of God,
Where pain and heart-ache have not strayed,
Where nought is known but peace and rest,
Where thy dear hands have ready made
A place for e’en the humblest guest.
But come thou closer, Master dear,
My weakness makes me sore dismayed,
O, let me whisper in thine ear,
For I am troubled and afraid.
What if my soul its way should miss
Between this and the world above,
And never share the perfect bliss
Provided by thy tender love?
But lo, He speaketh at my side
So close I feel His shelt’ring touch,
“Thou art my guest, can harm betide
One called of me, and known as such?
Dear child, the journey is not long,
Thy heart need not to fear or shrink
An opening door, an angel’s song—
Oh, heaven is nearer than you think!