There is a calm, beyond life's fitful fever,
A deep repose, an everlasting rest;
Where white-robed angels welcome the believer
Among the blest, among the blest.
There is a Home, where all the soul's deep yearnings
And silent prayers shall be at last fulfilled;
Where strife and sorrow, murmurings and heart-burnings,
At last are stilled, at last are stilled.
There is a Hope, to which the Christian, clinging,
Is lifted high above life's surging wave;
Finds life in death, and fadeless flowers springing
From the dark grave, from the dark grave.
There is a Crown, prepared for those who love Him;
The Christian sees it in the distance shine.
Like a bright beacon glittering above him
And whispers, “Mine! *' and whispers, “Mine! "
There is a spotless Robe of Christ'.? own weaving:
Wilt thou not wrap it round thy sin-stained soul?
Poor wandering child, upon thy past life grieving,
Christ makes thee whole! Christ makes thee whole!
There is a Home, a Harp, a Crown in heaven —
O God! that any should Thy gift refuse!
The awful choice of life and death is given —
Which wilt thou choose? which wilt thou choose?