The Shining Light.

A poem by William Cowper

My former hopes are fled,
My terror now begins;
I feel, alas! that I am dead
In trespasses and sins.


Ah, whither shall I fly?
I hear the thunder roar;
The law proclaims destruction nigh,
And vengeance at the door.


When I review my ways,
I dread impending doom:
But sure a friendly whisper says,
“Flee from the wrath to come.”


I see, or think I see,
A glimmering from afar;
A beam of day, that shines for me,
To save me from despair.


Forerunner of the sun,[1]
It marks the pilgrim’s way;
I’ll gaze upon it while I run,
And watch the rising day.

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