C. M. The hope of heaven our support under trials on earth. When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes. Should earth against my soul engage, And hellish darts be hurled, Then I can smile at Satan's rage, And face a frowning world. Let cares like a wild deluge come, And storms of sorrow fall, May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heav'n, my all! There shall I bathe my weary soul In seas of heav'nly rest, And not a wave of trouble roll Across my peaceful breast. |