The captive’s oar may pause upon the galley,

The soldier sleep beneath his pluméd crest,

And peace may fold her wing o’er hill and valley,

But thou, O Christian! must not take thy rest.

2 Wilt thou find rest of soul in thy returning

To that old path thou hast so vainly trod?

Hast thou forgotten all thy weary yearning

To walk among the children of thy God?

3 Canst thou forget thy Christian superscription—

Behold we count them happy which endure?

What treasure wouldst thou, in the land Egyptian,

Repass the stormy waters to secure?

4 And God will come in his own time and power,

To set his earnest-hearted children free;

Watch only through this dark and painful hour,

And the bright morning yet will break for thee!