My Former Hopes Are Dead

My for­mer hopes are dead

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.