S. M.
Sighing for rest.
Montgomery.
O where shall rest be found—
Rest for the weary soul?
’Twere vain the ocean-depths to sound,
Or pierce to either pole.
2 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.
3 Beyond this vale of tears
There is a life above,
Unmeasured by the flight of years;
And all that life is love.
4 There is a death whose pang
Outlasts the fleeting breath:
O what eternal horrors hang
Around the second death!
5 Lord God of truth and grace,
Teach us that death to shun,
Lest we be banished from thy face,
And evermore undone.
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