S.M.

1 A FEW more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come;
And we shall be with those that rest,
Asleep within the tomb.

2 Then, O my Lord, prepared
My soul for that great day;
O wash me in thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

3 A few more suns shall set
O'er these dark hills of time;
And we shall be where suns are not,
A far serener clime.

4 A few more storms shall beat
On this wild rocky shore;
And we shall be where tempests cease,
And surges swell no more.

5 A few more struggles here,
A few more partings o'er,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more.

6 A few more Sabbaths here
Shall cheer us on our way;
And we shall reach the endless rest,
The eternal Sabbath-day.


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