House Of Clay

Poem By Wildwood Slim

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.

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