Page:Poems Hoffman.djvu/419

Is it a flower on the stormy deep driven,
Crowning the brow of the darkest wave's crest?
 Nearer it floats 'till its frail form we hold
 Close to our hearts as its beauties unfold,
 'Tis God's own promise, a blossom of gold,
Cast out adrift from the Haven of Rest.

Strong for the toil that each fleeting year bringeth,
Work, all we ask of life's meager behest,
 Cometh a time when the strongest arm fails,
 Cometh a time when the bravest heart quails,
 Longs to cast anchor, to drop the torn sails,
Midst the green isles of the Haven of Rest.

Haven of Happiness, bright port of promise!
Harbor, where all who have entered are blest,
 Pilot across life's sea,
 Leaving the course to Thee,
 We shall safe anchored be
Sometime at home in the Haven of Rest.

There though glad feet shall go swift at bidding,
Idleness never the tireless hands' guest
 Yet shall no heart complain
 Of weary work and pain,
 Of toil or tears in vain,
Anchored at last in the Haven of Rest.

Little we know what the dense fogs are hiding,
Isles, flower-encircled and music caressed,
 Skies never veiled by night,
 Towers bathed in fadeless light,
 Forms clad in garments bright,
Thronging the shores of the Haven of Rest.

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