#44Victory

WHEN I can read my title clear, To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.

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

Let cares like a wild deluge come, And storms of sorrow fall; May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all.

There shall I bathe my weary soul In seas of heavenly rest, And not a wave of trouble roll Across my peaceful breast.