O Lord, I follow, little as I know; At this eleventh hour I rise and take My life into my hand, and follow so, With tears and heart-misgivings and heart-ache; Thy feeblest follower, yet Thy follower Indomitable for Thine only sake. To-night I gird my will afresh, and stir My strength, and brace my heart to do and dare, Marvelling: Will to-morrow wake the whirr Of the great rending wheel, or from his lair Startle the jubilant lion in his rage, Or clench the headsman's hand within my hair, Or kindle fire to speed my pilgrimage, Chariot of fire and horses of sheer fire Whirling me home to heaven by one fierce stage? Thy Will I will, I Thy desire desire; Let not the waters close above my head, Uphold me that I sink not in this mire: For flesh and blood are frail and sore afraid; And young I am, unsatisfied and young, With memories, hopes, with cravings all unfed, My song half sung, its sweetest notes unsung, All plans cut short, all possibilities, Because my cord of life is soon unstrung. Was I a careless woman set at ease That this so bitter cup is brimmed for me? Had mine own vintage settled on the lees? A word, a puff of smoke, would set me free; A word, a puff of smoke, over and gone:... Howbeit, whom have I, Lord, in heaven but Thee? Yea, only Thee my choice is fixed upon In heaven or earth, eternity or time:-- Lord, hold me fast, Lord, leave me not alone, Thy silly heartless dove that sees the lime Yet almost flutters to the tempting bough: Cover me, hide me, pluck me from this crime. A word, a puff of smoke, would save me now:... But who, my God, would save me in the day Of Thy fierce anger? only Saviour Thou. Preoccupy my heart, and turn away And cover up mine eyes from frantic fear, And stop mine ears lest I be driven astray: For one stands ever dinning in mine ear How my gray Father withers in the blight Of love for me, who cruel am and dear; And how my Mother through this lingering night Until the day, sits tearless in her woe, Loathing for love of me the happy light Which brings to pass a concourse and a show To glut the hungry faces merciless, The thousand faces swaying to and fro, Feasting on me unveiled in helplessness