Tossed no more on life’s rough billow,

All the storms of sorrow fled,

Death hath found a quiet pillow

For the agéd Christian’s head,

Peaceful slumbers

Guarding now his lowly bed.

2 O, may we be reunited

To the spirits of the just,

Leaving all that sin has blighted

With corruption, in the dust;

Hear us, Jesus,

Thou our Lord, our Life, our Trust.