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| 1 There is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found; They softly lie, and sweetly sleep, Low in the ground, low in the ground. 2 The storm that wrecks the winter sky No more disturb their deep repose Than summer evening’s latest sigh, That shuts the rose. 3 Thou traveler in this vale of tears, To realms of everlasting light, Through time's dark wilderness of years Pursue thy flight. 4 Whate'er thy lot--were'er thou be-- Confess thy folly--kiss the rod; And in thy chastening sorrows see The hand of God. 5 Though long of winds and waves the sport, Condemned in wretchedness to roam, Thou soon shoat reach a sheltering port, A quiet home. | The Cyber Hymnal #6747 The Voice of Praise: a collection of hymns for the use of the Methodist Church #875 (1873) The Book of Worship #429 (1867) |
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