1034
L. M.
Soon will the storm of life be o’er.
Gently, my Saviour, let me down,
To slumber in the arms of death;
I rest my soul on thee alone,
E’en till my last, expiring breath.
2 Soon will the storm of life be o’er,
And I shall enter endless rest;
There I shall live to sin no more,
And bless thy name, for ever blest.
3 Bid me possess sweet peace within;
Let childlike patience keep my heart,
Then shall I feel my heaven begin,
Before my spirit hence depart.
4 O, speed thy chariot, God of love,
And take me from this world of woe;
I long to reach those joys above,
And bid farewell to all below.
5 There shall my raptured spirit raise
Still louder notes than angels sing,
High glories to Immanuel’s grace,
My God, my Saviour, and my King!
Hill.