When from my sight the last earth-sha­dow falls,
When Life’s last mid­night is o’er,
Just as the morn on the ri­ver shall dawn,
Jesus will stand on the shore.

Yes, ’twill be morn­ing! The light of His face
Shines down that path­way of gloom;
Vanished thy ter­ror, thy vic­to­ry, Death,
Since He was laid in the tomb!

Since He is ris­en! O rap­tur­ous word!
Risen! He go­eth be­fore!
When He shall bid me Come ov­er, I know
Jesus will stand on the shore!

How can I fear, then, that ri­ver to cross?
(Hushed are its storms ev­er­more);
How can I faint when I watch for His smile,
His, who will stand on the shore?

Yes, He is watch­ing; He still­eth the waves,
Bearing His ran­somed ones o’er;
Ready to wel­come each pil­grim, He stands
Waiting on Hea­ven’s bright shore.

And I shall see Him, who once on the earth
Robes of mor­ta­li­ty wore;
Onward, blest spir­it, look on­ward and see
Jesus—He stands on the shore!

I would have told you! That word of His love
Comforts my soul more and more;
Jordan rolls dark­ly—but morn­ing is near,
And Jesus will stand on the shore!

Spirit of mine, when the sha­dow of death
Clouds o’er thy hea­ven, once more
Fear not, Oh, fear not! The riv­er once crossed,
Jesus will stand on the shore!

Martha El­vi­ra Pet­tus
The Way­side Shrine, 1914