As we look up the western steeps
That make this path a valley where
We walk on solid stone, there leaps
Sure footed like a mountain flare
This golden edge, this line of light,
All jagged on a wall of stone,
Down, down with every crag as bright
Above the line as if there shone
A mount of fire spreading down
These cliffs to clothe the valley here
With one enfolding gown
Of light until the sun appear
Above the dismal eastern rim
And blast, as in the twinkling of
An eye, the final scraps of dim
And gloomy ground with gleaming love,
And banish every shadow in
This world.

Note: The experience of being told I had cancer a decade ago was a clarification of the darkness of the valley where we live in this life, a heightening of the glory of having good solid ground under my feet, and an intensification of the hope that the day of meeting Jesus (whether in death or at his return) will be glorious. At the final revelation of the fullness of God’s light, evil will be banished, and every wrong will be righted.