O where shall rest be found,

Rest for the weary soul?

'Twere vain the ocean-depths to sound,

Or pierce to either pole;

The world can never give

The bliss for which we sigh;

'Tis not the whole of life to live;

Nor all of death to die.

Beyond this vale of tears,

There is a life above,

Unmeasured by the flight of years;

And all that life is love;--

There is a death, whose pang

Ontlasts the fleeting breath;

O what eternal horrors hang

Around "the second death!"

Lord God of truth and grace,

Teach us that death to shun,

Lest we be banish'd from Thy face,

And evermore undone:

Here would we end our quest;

Alone are found in Thee,

The life of perfect love,--the rest

Of immortality.