C. M.

The hope of heaven our support under trials on earth.

When I can read my title clear

To mansions in the skies,

I bid farewell to every fear,

And wipe my weeping eyes.

Should earth against my soul engage,

And hellish darts be hurled,

Then I can smile at Satan's rage,

And face a frowning world.

Let cares like a wild deluge come,

And storms of sorrow fall,

May I but safely reach my home,

My God, my heav'n, my all!

There shall I bathe my weary soul

In seas of heav'nly rest,

And not a wave of trouble roll

Across my peaceful breast.