HOLD MY HAND

Hold my hand as I cross this stream
My feet on slippery stones,
And fast the current rushes past
To where the water falls.
The wind is blowing loud and hard;
Above my head the branches shake
And birds are carried on the air like
Rags caught up and swirled away
Towards a distant land.

Hold my hand as I cross this stream;
I fear I'm going to fall
And then the water, cold and strong
Will take my life away

It was, I'd thought, a shallow stream,
And not so very wide,
The water in it tame and smooth
which I could play in as I crossed
But it's grown wide - so wide I cannot see
The farthest bank at all;
I would turn round, but where I've been
The bed's been washed away
And there the fast dark water flows
Too deep for me to tread.

I must go on, and on and on,
Reaching for your hand
Because I fear I'm going to fall -
my feet on slippery stones -
And then the water, cold and strong,
Will surely wash away my life,
And strip me to my bones.