Strange how a phrase, an image, heard multiple times, is appreciated but quickly forgotten–but one time it did not:
…simply to the cross I cling.
—Augustus M. Toplady, Rock of Ages
Regret shades yesterday;
Fear foreshadows the morn.
The hour awaits the way I must cross:
How tempting! The route: worn.
To act or not to act?
I give this scrutiny.
I sip this cup and cease to wonder why.
My compass bends its knee.
My heart quickens its pace,
And sounds like pounding drums.
My hands reach up to grasp and cling, until
Tomorrow’s hour comes.