My God! in life’s most doubtful hour, In sharpest pains of death, Who waits on Thee hath peace and power; Thou present help of faith! | Thy crown of joy upon his head, Thy light upon his face, Through storms and strife Thy Christ could tread, On to the happy place. | And though the cross were sharp and high, The lifted Lord could see The souls he loved drawn nearer by His love’s last energy. | Help me, O God! to seek—to win, Through struggles and through prayer, The faith which frees my soul from sin, And brings Thy blessing there. | So shall my cross of conquered shame My fainting brothers raise, So Thy triumphant mercy flame Around my path of praise. | And earth, with all its pain and toil, By love’s pure presence blest, Shall wear the calm celestial smile Of heaven’s eternal rest. | |