As I lay sick upon my bed
I heard them say, “In danger.”
The word seemed very strange to me;
Could any word seem stranger?
“In danger” of escape from sin,
Forever and forever?
Of entering that most holy place
Where evil enterest never?
“In danger” of beholding Him,
Who is my soul’s salvation,
Whose promises sustain my soul
In blest anticipation?
“In danger” of soon shaking off
Earth’s last remaining fetter,
And of departing hence to be
With Christ, which is far better?
It is a solemn thing to die,
To face the King Immortal;
And each forgiven sinner should
Tread softly o’er the portal.
But when we have confessed our sins
To Him who can discern them,
And God has given pardon, peace,
Tho’ we could ne’er deserve them,
Then dying is no dangerous thing;
Safe in the Saviour’s keeping,
The ransomed one is gently led
Beyond the reach of weeping.
– Martha Snell Nicholson