MY PASSOVER by David Keppel

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Apr 16, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 24.

MY PASSOVER.

By David Keppel

BY DAVID KEPPEL, PH.M.

A PILGRIM, with my staff in hand, I eat my passover to-night; With girded loins, full shod I stand, To wait the coming night.

And from the gloom I hear the cries Of mourners mourning for their dead; The past within the shadow lies, The future glows ahead.

O land of my captivity, Where sweat and tears together fell, With haste I shake thy dust from me, And bid thee glad farewell.

I know not—and 'tis not my care— If I shall spend the coming years Where Elim's palm trees cool the air, Or Marah pours her tears.

But this I know, the sprinkled blood Hath set my soul at liberty; A Red Sea rolls its cleansing flood Between my sins and me.

And He who knoweth all my way, Creates the darkness and the light; His cloudy pillar shades my day; His glory cheers my night.

Full soon my pilgrimage will cease— Its transient joys, its blinding tears— And I shall find eternal peace Beyond the "rolling years." —World Wide Missions.