A lit­tle long­er

...Tho’ with thorns thy hands are torn,

Thorns shall change to wav­ing palms,...

...Not now, my child, a lit­tle more rough toss­ing,

A few more jour­ney­ings in the de­sert dark­ness,...

...They have done with all below;

But how lit­tle—none can know....

...For the glad tri­umph­ant dawn?

Work for Je­sus while you wait;...

...Be ve­ry pa­tient still.

With all our brok­en pur­pos­es of good—...

...To this wi­thered heart of mine;

With Thy beams of light di­vine;...

...That while in this frail house of clay

Our flesh in Thee may sweet­ly sleep,...