The gate of Heaven.
Genesis 28:17
Words: William L. Alexander, 1865. The aged believer at the gate of Heaven.
Some hymnals give the author as John Guthrie, but it seems likely this was for an adaptation: Both Julian and Ross credit the words to Alexander.
Music: Charles C. Converse, Silver Wings (Boston, Massachusetts and New York: Oliver Ditson & Company / C. H. Ditson & Company, 1870), number 88 (🔊 pdf nwc).
I wrote it,writes Dr. Alexander,after an evening spent with my venerable father, then near the end of his earthly pilgrimage, and when he spoke much of his longing to depart to and join those who had been the companions of his pilgrimage, but had preceded him into the better land.(E. MS.)In 1865 it was printed in the Sunday Magazine in 5 stanzas of 8 lines. From that magazine it first passed into a few American hymnals, and then into the 1874 Supplement to the New Congregational Hymn Book; the >Hymnal Companion, 1876, and others. It is the most popular of Dr. Alexander’s hymns.
Julian, p. 562
I’m kneeling at the threshold,
So weary, faint, and sore,
Waiting for the dawning,
The opening of the door;
I’m waiting till the Master
Shall bid me rise and come
To His all glorious presence,
The gladness of His home.
Refrain
Kneeling at the threshold,
Weary, faint and sore;
Kneeling at the threshold,
My hand is at the door.
A weary path I’ve traveled,
’Mid darkness, storm and strife;
Bearing many a burden,
And struggling for my life;
But now the morn is breaking,
My toil will soon be o’er;
I’m kneeling at the threshold,
My hand is on the door.
Refrain
Methinks I hear the voices
Of loved ones as they stand,
Singing in the sunshine,
In that fair sinless land:
Oh, would that I were with them,
Amid their shining throng,
And mingling in their worship,
And joining in their song!
Refrain
The friends that started with me
Have entered long ago;
One by one they left me
Still struggling with the foe;
Their pilgrimage was shorter,
Their triumph surer won,
How lovingly they’ll hail me,
When all my toil is done.
Refrain
With them the blessèd angels,
That know no grief or sin,
Standing by the portals,
Prepared to let me in;
O Lord, I wait Thy pleasure—
Thy time and way are best;
But I’m all worn and weary;
O Father, bid me rest!
Refrain