The Shining Light.
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 pilgrims way;
Ill gaze upon it while I run,
And watch the rising day.