Tomorrow is not born to me tonight
It has no breath, no shadow on my door
Yet still it bends my thoughts toward coming light
And bids me fear what is not mine in store.

It whispers of a frost not yet begun
Of roads I may not walk with steady tread
It speaks as though the race were already run
And counts as lost the steps not even led.

But I have walked the boundaries of this day
Have felt its wind and did not turn aside
I found, in small hard mercies on the way
A voice within less cruel, less quick to chide.

This ground I hold was earned by living through
Let morning test me then. Tonight is true.