There is an hour of peaceful rest, To mourning wand'rers given; There is a joy for souls distressed, A balm for every wounded breast, 'Tis found above in Heav'n. There is a home for weary souls By sin and sorrow driven; When tossed on life's tempestuous shoals, When storms arise, and ocean rolls, And all is drear but Heav'n. 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 Heav'n. 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 Heav'n.
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