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!