Home  »  A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895  »  My Times Are in Thy Hand

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

Christopher Newman Hall b. 1816

My Times Are in Thy Hand

MY times are in thy hand!

I know not what a day

Or e’en an hour may bring to me,

But I am safe while trusting thee,

Though all things fade away.

All weakness, I

On him rely

Who fix’d the earth and spread the starry sky.

My times are in thy hand!

Pale poverty or wealth,

Corroding care or calm repose,

Spring’s balmy breath or winter’s snows,

Sickness or buoyant health,—

Whate’er betide,

If God provide,

’T is for the best; I wish no lot beside.

My times are in thy hand!

Should friendship pure illume

And strew my path with fairest flowers,

Or should I spend life’s dreary hours

In solitude’s dark gloom,

Thou art a friend,

Till time shall end

Unchangeably the same; in thee all beauties blend.

My times are in thy hand!

Many or few, my days

I leave with thee,—this only pray,

That by thy grace, I, every day

Devoting to thy praise,

May ready be

To welcome thee

Whene’er thou com’st to set my spirit free.

My times are in thy hand!

Howe’er those times may end,

Sudden or slow my soul’s release,

Midst anguish, frenzy, or in peace,

I ’m safe with Christ my friend.

If he is nigh,

Howe’er I die,

’T will be the dawn of heavenly ecstasy.

My times are in thy hand!

To thee I can intrust

My slumbering clay, till thy command

Bids all the dead before thee stand,

Awaking from the dust.

Beholding thee,

What bliss ’t will be

With all thy saints to spend eternity!

To spend eternity

In heaven’s unclouded light!

From sorrow, sin, and frailty free,

Beholding and resembling thee,—

O too transporting sight!

Prospect too fair

For flesh to bear!

Haste! haste! my Lord, and soon transport me there!