It is the Lord, Who in the tempest sleeping,
Was awakened by His feeble few:
Who still on high, His faithful vigil keeping,
Will soon arise, the Mighty One and True.
It is the Lord, small, still voice revealing
His presence near, He calms our troubled breast,
‘Come unto Me’ we hear His words appealing,
‘Come, heavy laden, I will give you rest.’
It is the Lord, He on the water treading,
Called to His own across the restless deep:
‘Be not afraid!’ His presence overspreading
Makes toil to cease, and hearts no more to weep.
It is the Lord; our hearts for Him are waiting:
We soon shall reach Him on the Heavenly shore:
There faith and hope, no more anticipating
But love alone abides for evermore.
It is the Lord, no matter what the testing,
Or how severe the discipline might be;
Ours is the day for serving, not for resting:
Yet still, O Lord, we find our rest in Thee!