Too much, in case we o'erburden'd should be.
Trial God sendeth,
Speedily endeth
The storms of ocean,
The wind's commotion
Lightens the sunshine so gladsome and bright.
Fulness of pleasure,
And glorious leisure,
Will then be given
To me in yon Heaven
Too much, in case we o'erburden'd should be.
Trial God sendeth,
Speedily endeth
The storms of ocean,
The wind's commotion
Lightens the sunshine so gladsome and bright.
Fulness of pleasure,
And glorious leisure,
Will then be given
To me in yon Heaven