THERE is an hour of peaceful rest | |
To mourning wanderers given; | |
There is a joy for souls distrest, | |
A balm for every wounded breast, | |
'T is found alone in heaven. | 5 |
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There is a soft, a downy bed, | |
Far from these shades of even— | |
A couch for weary mortals spread, | |
Where they may rest the aching head, | |
And find repose, in heaven. | 10 |
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There is a home for weary souls | |
By sin and sorrow driven; | |
When tossed on life's tempestuous shoals, | |
Where storms arise, and ocean rolls, | |
And all is drear but heaven. | 15 |
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There faith lifts up her cheerful eye, | |
To brighter prospects given; | |
And views the tempest passing by, | |
The evening shadows quickly fly, | |
And all serene in heaven. | 20 |
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There fragrant flowers immortal bloom, | |
And joys supreme are given; | |
There rays divine disperse the gloom: | |
Beyond the confines of the tomb | |
Appears the dawn of heaven. | 25 |