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.
