When dips my oar the Silent River
That Eternity and Time divide,
This house of clay I’ll leave forever
A new one waits, just o’er the tide.
This old clay, I’ll leave to crumble
Earth to earth, and dust to dust;
My vessel there, in the sweet forever,
‘Twill never mar, nor stain, nor rust.
T’wont be plagued with hurt and anguish,
Nor tempted with man’s gain and lust;
Pain and parting, there no never,
The gentle land of love and trust.
Yes, when my oar with silver glistens
From bright Jordan’s silent tide,
All to this world I leave behind me
Will lie in a grave on the green hillside.
Oh, meet me o’er the Silent River!
Our new forms there by faith will match
The house of clay we’ve left behind us;
Your familiar face at sight I’ll catch.
Pray that I my Oar have ready,
Both prepared to live and die;
That when we leave this clay behind us
We’ll meet again, friend, you and I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem