Rest.
1 O Thou, the primal fount of life and peace,
Who shedd’st Thy breathing quiet all around,
In me command that pain and conflict cease,
And tune to music every jarring sound.
2 Make Thou in me, O God, through shame and pain,
A heart attuned to Thy celestial calm;
Let not the spirit’s pangs be roused in vain,
But heal the wounded breast with soothing balm!
3 So, firm in steadfast hope, in thought secure,