At Rest

Fold the hands and let him rest!
He shall sorrow nevermore;
Grief has done her worst and best,
But his grief is o'er!

What to him the dangers dark,--
Terrors of the waveless stream?
God shall guide the helpless barque
Through the shadowed dream!

He has fought with storm and strife,
He has conquered, all alone;
He has plucked the rose of life
For his very own.

Farewell to the world of sighs!
He has laid the burden down;
Here each grief and sorrow dies,
And he claims the crown!