Jordan

[LYDIA WESTERN]

JORDAN

As I stand in Jordan’s claven depths,

Make, O Lord, my death another’s spring

That they might live and joyful sing

Of Canaan’s shore and deeper rest.

 

Waters of Adam piled on an heap,

Whilst prayers upon my slurring lips

And tears upon my baby cheeks

Wet rocks beneath my tired feet.

 

Standing still, no place to go?

O Lord, a dead man cannot move,

But waits thy blessings yet to prove 

And prays though emptied of my flow.

 

Dry as the rocks beneath my feet

But praying as the priests beneath the ark,

Though caring naught but to depart

When standing ‘side my Jordan heap.

 

A blessing I have come to be.

‘Twas hard to see the glory in my death

When struggling, O, but for a breath

God made me water there for thee.

 

Poured out upon impossible and holy ground,

Is death such a miracle that in my heart

Another’s sorrow can depart

For Spirit’s working through my nothing?

 

Blessed be the ties that bind me

In the love of God, my glory,

That writes my new and deeper story

And whispers, “Thou art yet to be.”

 

L.W