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An Exhortation to Patience

by Eliza Wolcott

It is a thorny path we tread,
Where disappointments come;
Then we are mingled with the dead,
And cover'd in the tomb.

Our fondest hopes are blighted here,
For earth is not our home;
Then o'er frail life we drop a tear,
And welcome then the tomb.

To-day the sun is bright and clear,
To morrow clouds may come;
Yet though no change to us appear,
We are hastening to the tomb.

Look then on life as lent awhile,
To gain a heavenly home,
Where Jesus meets us with a smile,
Who once perfum'd the tomb.

For us a crown of thorns He wore,
His soul was fill'd with gloom,
Then led believers evermore,
To triumph o'er the tomb.

When to the cross His hands were nail'd,
And the dread hour was come,
His glorious mission never fail'd,
He conquer'd then the tomb.

Then let us wait with patience here,
Our Conqueror soon will come;
The trump shall sound, the dead shall hear,
And live beyond the tomb.

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