Dying Grace

DYING GRACE When I reach that final hour that life holds here for me And I face the coming prospect of life eternally, It’s then I’m sure I’ll know it--this thing called “dying grace,” As witnessed by the countless who’ve gone to see Christ’s face. Right now, though, somewhat fearful I’m of that coming day, I wonder how I’ll face Him and what He’ll have to say. I’ve trusted in the Savior the best that I know how, I’m clinging to the promise He’ll not forsake me now, But death? I somewhat shudder as I know it I’ll face, But now I do not need it--this thing called “dying grace.” No, now I need to love Him and serve as best I can, Confess to Him my failures and let Him hold my hand. It’s easy to remember my failures and my sin, Be tempted just to wonder if He will let me in. And so often when I stumble or succumb once again To some besetting problem or some repeated sin, It’s easy to feel hopeless and wonder why I try; “Give up” would seem so easy, but yet again I cry. He answers, “Keep on running this ever straining race Until you cross the river and see Me face to face. For I am ever present, for you I intercede, I gave you My forgiveness when for you I did bleed. I know that you are human, and when that time you face, I’ll come to be right with you and give you dying grace.