456
S. M.
The ark of God.
Like Noah’s weary dove,
That soared the earth around,
But not a resting-place above
The cheerless waters found;
2 O cease, my wandering soul,
On restless wing to roam;
All the wide world, to either pole,
Has not for thee a home.
3 Behold the ark of God,
Behold the open door;
Hasten to gain that dear abode,
And rove, my soul, no more.
4 There safe thou shalt abide,
There sweet shall be thy rest,
And every longing satisfied,
With full salvation blest.
5 And when the waves of ire,
Again the earth shall fill,
The ark shall ride the sea of fire;
Then rest on Zion’s hill.
Muhlenberg.