Oh! sweetest words that Jesus could have sought,

To soothe the mourning widow's heart, "Weep not!"

They fall with comfort on my ear,

When life is dark and trouble near.

They were not whispered accents, but aloud

The Saviour spake them to the silent crowd,

That each might hear His heavenly voice,

And in the widow's joy rejoice!

Words, that were spoken amid sorrow's strife,

And in the very midst of death and life;

They shall refresh my soul at last,

And strengthen me till life is past.

If poverty obscures my earthly lot,

Then shall I haar my Saviour say, Weep not."

To God the Father raise thine eye,

For still He hears the raven's cry.

And, oh! should persecution's ruthless hand

Grant me no quiet possession in the land,

The voice of Jesus calms each thought--

Heaven is thy dwelling-place: "Weep not!"

Though death the dearest of my heart hath slain,

Jesus shall yet restore my dead again;

"Weep not," He says, "poor weary one,

But think what I at Nain have done!"

When I myself am drawing near to death,

This Jesus shall be there, and thus He saith:

"The race is run, the battle fought,

I am thy light, thy life: 'Weep not!'"

Oh! sweetest words that Jesus could have sought,

To cheer His weary troubled ones: "Weep not!"

Thrice blessed words! I listening stay,

Till grief and sorrow flee away!