To weary hearts, to mourning homes,

God’s meekest angel gently comes;

No power hath he to banish pain,

Or give us back our lost again;

And yet, in tenderest love, our dear

And heavenly Father sends him here.

2 Angel of patience! sent to calm

Our feverish brows with cooling balm,

To lay with hope the storms of fear,

And reconcile life’s smile and tear,

The throbs of wounded pride to still,

And make our own our Father’s will!

3 O thou, who mournest on thy way,

With longings for the close of day,

He walks with thee, that angel kind,

And gently whispers, “Be resigned!

Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell,

The dear Lord ordereth all things well.”