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HOLD THOU MY HAND

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Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jan 18, 1899

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 25, No. 3.

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HOLD THOU MY HAND.

By H. G. Thurston

When life is tender, and its bud Scarce shows what flower is hidden there, Lest fire or blast should blight its form, And it should perish in the storm,     Hold Thou my hand.
When childhood, with its sweet perfume, And guileless soul, and simple tread, With foes on every side to spoil,— Their wicked efforts wilt Thou foil,     Hold Thou my hand.
When youth, with energy and truth, Starts in the seas of life to ride, With human hand too short to save From storm and wreck and water's grave,     Hold Thou my hand.
When manhood's crown upon me rests, And earnest work my days do fill, Lest I forget my Maker's will, And stake my tent on doubter's hill,     Hold Thou my hand.
When great success doth crown my plans, And all the world unites to praise, Lest pride and love of fame shall find In me a place my eyes to blind,     Hold Thou my hand.
When losses and sore troubles come, Hopes reel, and fall no more to rise, And friends grow cold and then forsake, Despair comes nigh the heart to break,     Hold Thou my hand.
When all life's usefulness is past, And cold, drear death is hovering near, Let Thy blest promise rest my soul; As o'er me Jordan's billows roll,     Hold Thou my hand.
Where'er I go, whate'er my lot, At Thy dear side give me a place; To my weak soul Thy strength impart, Thy Spirit give to cheer my heart,     Hold Thou my hand.     H. G. THURSTON.