The Haven of Rest

Is there beyond this life's narrow horizon,
Is there beyond this life's ocean distressed,
Calm in the clime of some sheltering shore,
Where the storms cease and the tempests are o'er,
Sky, land and ocean at peace evermore,
Is there, oh, is there a Haven of Rest?

 

Not for the hands that are trembling and weary,
Not for the feet that the thorn-paths have pressed;
But for the hearts that are sickened to view
Wrongs that the tired hands can never undo,
Sins, briers, that scatter the winding way through
E'en to the haven, the Haven of Rest.

 

Boast we of courage that never is vanquished,
Hearts brave and strong the mad breakers to breast?
Ah! the chill wavelets will beat them aside,
Stranded above the slow ebb of the tide,
Need we a pilot, a lamp and a guide,
Over the shoals to the Haven of Rest?

 

Is there no haven, no haven beyond?
None have come back from the sun-setting West.
Oh, have we watched for some tokens in vain,
Striving our gaze o'er the billows to strain,
Only one unfailing promise to gain,
Of that fair haven, the Haven of Rest?

 

Is it a flower on the stormy deep driven,
Crowning the brow of the darkest waves crest?
Nearer it floats 'till its frail form we hold
Close to our hearts as its beauties unfold,
'Tis God's own promise, a blossom of gold,
Cast out adrift from the Haven of Rest.

 

Strong for the toil that each fleeting year bringeth,
Work, all we ask of life's meager behest,
Cometh a time when the strongest arm fails,
Cometh a time when the bravest heart quails,
Longs to cast anchor, to drop the torn sails,
Midst the green isles of the Haven of Rest.

 

Haven of Happiness, bright port of promise!
Harbor, where all who have entered are blest,
Pilot across life's sea,
Leaving the course to Thee,
We shall safe anchored be
Sometime at home in the Haven of Rest.

 

There though glad feet shall go swift at bidding,
Idleness never the tireless hands' guest
Yet shall no heart complain
Of weary work or pain,
Of toil or tears in vain,
Anchored at last in the Haven of Rest.

 

Little we know what the dense fogs are hiding,
Isles flower-encircled and music caressed,
Skies never veiled by night,
Towers bathed in fadeless light,
Forms clad in garments bright,
Thronging the shores of the Haven of Rest.