The River of Years by Rev. H. G. Jackson

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D.C. · Oct 4, 1906

The River of Years

By Rev. H. G. Jackson

In the Sunrise land, when the morning ray Was flushing the hills and valleys with gold, My life-bark was launched on its venturesome way, Freighted with treasures of value untold; For who can measure the worth, alone, Of a human soul, with its hopes and fears, Embarked on a voyage to a port unknown, On the mystical river—the River of Years?

'Twas a gentle current that carried me on, And fair was the shore on either hand; The crystal wavelets rippled and shone Over glittering beds of silver sand; No storm-clouds threaten, no thunders affright, And life like a dream of enchantment appears, While idly drifting, by day and by night, Affloat on the tranquil River of Years.

But perils there were that I soon must try, Of tortuous channels and treacherous waves, Where hidden rocks 'neath the surface lie, And the hungry torrent madly raves. On the turbulent waters my bark is tossed, Each thrilling moment new danger appears, Faith yields to terror, and hope is lost In the angry rush of the River of Years!

But One was near, whose omnipotent word The tempest obeys on sea and land; My despairing cry for succor he heard, And quickly extended his saving hand. My battered bark from the rocks set free, He calmed my terror and dried my tears, And promised henceforth my pilot to be, Till I finish my course on the River of Years.

—Rev. H. G. Jackson.