My Rest is in Heaven
My rest is in Heaven, my rest is not here,
Then why should I murmur when trials are near?
Be hushed my sad spirit, the worst that can come
But shortens the journey and hastens me Home.
It is not for me to be seeking my bliss,
And building my hopes in a region like this;
I look for a City which hands have not piled;
I pant for a Country by sin undefiled.
The winds of affliction around me may blow,
And dash my lone barque as I'm sailing below;
I smile at the storm as I lean on His breast,
And soon I shall land in the Haven of Rest.