I believe, I know, I know it well, That my Redeemer lives and reigns, For I trust God's word to tell— He is my Father, source of grace. There come at times such weary hours Of sorrow, loss, and bitter pain. It seems my strength and courage flowers Have fled, my boat takes in the main. In those dark hours when sorrows gather, Despair and anguish come to call. Then whisper to myself in prayer: "Do not give in to grief's dark thrall!" The Savior conquered death's sharp sting When He arose in glory bright, So that we need not sorrow's wing, But hope eternal, pure and white. Then does the soul rejoice anew, With heaven's peace fill up the breast, For I believe the word so true, That sounds not hollow, but is blessed.
