Verse 1
Ah, whither, or to whom
Should the afflicted fly?
Beyond the storm, beyond the tomb,
To Jesus in the sky!
Above these tents of clay,
Above these clouds of care,
To mansions of eternal day,
To our Redeemer there!

Verse 2
Safe on that happy shore
From sorrow, sin, and strife!
The bitterness of death is or’e,
The bitterness of life:
The grief with all to part
(While grace and nature strove)
The achings of a broken heart,
The pangs of dying love.

Verse 3
Tis there my soul shall rest
From all its misery,
Reclining on his loving breast
Who bore the cross for me,
Fainted beneath my load,
With sinless passions torn,
And groan’d in death “my GOD, my GOD,”
That I might cease to mourn.

Verse 4
Come then, my only Hope,
My only constant friend,
And dry these briny rivulets up
And bid these conflicts end;
Pour in thy mercy’s Balm
The pangs of loss to ease,
The rage of stormy passions calm,
And give me back my peace.

Verse 5
O for one cordial drop
Of pure celestial love
To sweeten life’s afflictive cup,
Till Thou from earth remove,
Till Thou, my GOD, receive
Thy wandring exile home,
Where pain and loss can never grieve,
And sin can never come.

Verse 6
Thou once a man of woe,
Indulge my sad request,
Cut short my suffering days below,
And give the weary rest;
For this, this only good
I ever ever cry,
Ah! let me feel thy sprinkled blood,
Ah! let me love, and die.