To a Lady, XI

I have been near the gates of death, And I, once more, must there appear; But, Lord, make sure thy servant’s faith, To walk that shadow-vale of fear! For thou hast spoil’d the pang, the sting Of death and hell so fierce before, Led captive in thy triumphing, Thy conquest of the Conqueror; And Faith but waits thy bidding word, Thy spirit walking on the sea, To leap, like Peter to his Lord, And pass the roaring floods to Thee; For raging waves can never tame, Nor midnight dark, nor storms, confound The soul that burns like naptha-flame, The brighter for the waters round.