1 While some in folly's pleasures roll,
And court the joys which hurt the soul:
Be mine that silent calm repast,
A peaceful conscience to the last:

2 That tree which bears immortal fruit,
Without a canker at the root;
That friend, who never fails the just,
When other friends desert their trust.

3 With this companion in the shade,
My soul no more shall be dismay'd;
But fearless meet the midnight gloom,
And the pale monarch of the tomb.

4 Though heav'n afflict, I'll not repine;
The noblest comforts still are mine.
Comforts, which over death prevail,
And journey with me through the vale.

5 The Lord will smooth my rugged way,
And lead me to the realms of day,
To milder skies and brighter plains,
Where everlasting pleasure reigns.