When my days have told their number,
Told their tales of joy and pain,
And from death’s concluding slumber
I shall be aroused again,
Standing at the eternal bourn—
Whither, whither shall I turn?
When the day of wrath and terror
Dawns upon the affrighted world,
Every sin and crime and error
In a blaze of light unfurled,
Written on the eternal sky—
Whither, whither shall I fly?
Whither but to Thee, whose mercy
All the clouds is breaking through:
Great, beyond all controversy,
Is thy love and pardon too.
Father! whither shall we flee—
Whither, whither but to Thee?
(John Bowring)
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