O Sleepless Nights, O Cheerless Days

O sleep­less nights

O cheer­less days

O sobs

that will not cease;

Be still

be still! kind are His ways

Christ is the Prince of Peace:

’Tis well thy head

in throb­bing pain

May pil­low on His breast;

Weep there thy tears like spring­time rain—

He gives the mourn­er rest.

Toil brave­ly on

’twill not be long

Thy bark shall plow the main;

Steer well; thy guide shall be the song

That rings from Heav­en’s plain;

And watch thou for the gleam­ing lights

That shine across the wave;

They’re plant­ed on fair Heav­en’s heights

The ma­rin­er to save.

Steer well! the har­bor just ahead

Aglow with glo­ry’s ray

Will on thee gold­en lus­ter shed

From out the gates of day

And wait­ing there are long­ing hands

That thrill to clasp thine own

And lead thee thro’ the heav’n­ly land

Into the bright un­known.

Oh

strive thou well to ov­er­come

And clothe thy­self in white

Wait pa­tient­ly thy wel­come home

To scenes of glo­ry bright:

The Lord loves those He chast­ens sore

And binds the bleed­ing wound;

And gent­ly heals the heart He tore

That grace may more ab­ound!