Finishing Well...

It’s sundown,

Lord.

The shadows of my life

stretch back

into the dimness of the

years long spent.

I fear not death,

 for that grim foe

betrays himself at last,

thrusting me forever into life:

Life with you,

unsoiled and free.

But I do fear.

I fear the Dark Specter

may come too soon—

or do I mean, too late?

That I should end

before I finish

or finish, but not well.

That I should stain your honor;

shame your name,

grieve your loving heart.

Few, they tell me, finish well…

Lord, let me get home

 before dark.

The darkness of a spirit

grown mean and small,

 fruit shriveled on the vine,

bitter to the taste of

my companions,

burden to be borne by

those brave few who love me still.

No, Lord.

 Let the fruit grow lush and sweet,

a joy to all who taste;

Spirit—sign of God at work,

stronger, fuller, brighter at the end.

Lord, let me get home before dark.

The darkness of tattered gifts,

rust-locked, half-spent or ill-spent,

A life that once was used of God

now set aside.

Grief for glories gone or

Fretting for a task God never gave.

Mourning in the hollow chambers of memory,

Gazing on the faded banners of victories long gone.

Cannot I run well unto the end?

Lord, let me get home before dark.

-Robertson McQuilkin

 

"Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be.

 My Father will honor the one who serves me."

 

John 12:26