O sleepless nights, O
cheerless days,
O sobs, that will not
cease;
Be still, be still! kind
are His ways,
Christ is the Prince of
Peace:
’Tis well thy head, in
throbbing pain,
May pillow on His breast;
Weep there thy tears like
springtime rain—
He gives the mourner
rest.
Toil bravely on,
’twill not be long
Thy bark shall plow the
main;
Steer well; thy guide
shall be the song
That rings from Heaven’s
plain;
And watch thou for the
gleaming lights
That shine across the
wave;
They’re planted on fair
Heaven’s heights,
The mariner to save.
Steer well! the harbor
just ahead
Aglow with glory’s ray,
Will on thee golden
luster shed,
From out the gates of
day,
And waiting there are
longing hands
That thrill to clasp
thine own,
And lead thee thro’ the
heav’nly land
Into the bright unknown.
Oh, strive thou well
to overcome,
And clothe thyself in
white,
Wait patiently thy
welcome home
To scenes of glory
bright:
The Lord loves those He
chastens sore,
And binds the bleeding
wound;
And gently heals the
heart He tore,
That grace may more
abound!
