I know not if or dark or bright
Shall be my lot;
If that wherein my hopes delight
Be best or not.
It may be mine to drag for years
Toil�s heavy chain,
Or day and night my meat be tears
On bed of pain.
Dear faces may surround my health
With smiles and glee,
Or I may dwell alone, and mirth
Be strange to me.
My bark is wafted to the strand
By breath divine,
And on its helm there rests a hand
Other than mine.
One who was known in storms to sail
I have on board;
Above the roaring of the gale
I hear my Lord.
Safe to the land! safe to the land!
The end is this,
And then with Him go hand in hand,
Far into bliss.