And yet, in tenderest love, our dear
And heavenly Father sends him here.
2 Angel of patience! sent to calm
Our feverish brows with cooling balm,
To lay with hope the storms of fear,
And reconcile life’s smile and tear,
The throbs of wounded pride to still,
And make our own our Father’s will!
3 O thou, who mournest on thy way,
With longings for the close of day,