Like Noah's Weary Dove

Like Noah's weary dove,

That soared the earth around,

But not a resting place above

The cheerless waters found;

Oh, cease, my wandering soul,

On restless wings to roam;

All the wide world, to either pole,

Has not for thee a home.

Behold the Ark of God,

Behold the open door;

Hasten to gain that dear abode,

And rove, my soul, no more.

There, safe thou shalt abide,

There, sweet shall be thy rest,

And every longing satisfied,

With full salvation blest.

And, when the waves of ire

Again the earth shall fill,

The Ark shall ride the sea of fire,

Then rest on Sion's hill.

Amen.