Classic Poem

Happy he whose thoughtful mind
Seeks contentment not on earth,
Nor desires nor seeks to find,
Riches, honours, joys or mirth.

Far retired from care he lives,
See him calmly, humbly wait,
Peace, beyond what earth e'er gives,
Is the portion of his state.

Waiting till the appointed hour,
That shall speak the solemn word;
Lo, he daily feels the power,
Of an omnipresent Lord!

Weak repinings at his fate,
Ne'er disturb his humble breast;
Hoping for a better state,
Satisfied in this to rest.

Lo, his portion is prepared,
And in this he rests content,
Never hath his spirit dared,
Disbelieve the promise sent.

As the glory of his Lord,
So shall his in heaven be;
He relies upon his word,
Thus from anxious care set free.

Oh that thus my thoughts were stayed
On that glorious land of rest;
All my cares and sorrows laid
On my dear Redeemer's breast

Toiling in this sea of care,
Long my weary soul hath been;
Every passion, every fear,
O'er my heart alternate reign.

Yet I see the happy shore,
Where my toils for ever cease,
Gracious Pilot steer me o'er,
Bring me to that land of peace.