There is a balm for every pain,

A medicine for all sorrow;

The eye turned backward to the Cross,

And forward to the morrow.

The morrow of the glory and the psalm,

When He shall come;

The morrow of the harping and the palm,

The welcome home.

Meantime in His beloved hands our ways,

And on His Heart the wandering heart at rest;

And comfort for the weary one who lays

His head upon His Breast.