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160 The Saint's Delight

When I can read my title clear,
To mansions in the skies,
I’ll bid farewell to ev’ry fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.


I feel like I’m on my journey home.

Should earth against my soul engage,
And fi'ry darts be hurled,
Then I can smile at Satan’s rage,
And face a frowning world.


Let cares like a wild deluge come,
Let storms of sorrow fall,
So I but safely reach my home,
My God, my heav’n, my all.


There I shall bathe my weary soul
In seas of heav’nly rest;
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast.

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