Wait on the Lord, ye heirs of hope,
And let His word support your souls;
Well can He bear your courage up,
And all your foes and fears control.
He waits His own well-chosen hour
The intended mercy to display;
And His paternal pities move,
While wisdom dictates the delay.
Blest are the humble souls that wait
With sweet submission to His will;
Harmonious all their passions move,
And in the midst of storms are still;—
Still, till their Father’s well-known voice
Wakens their silence into songs;
Then earth grows vocal with His praise,
And heaven the grateful shout prolongs.
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