Oh, for the peace that flow­eth as a ri­ver,
Making life’s de­sert plac­es bloom and smile;
Oh, for the faith to grasp Heav’n’s bright for­ev­er,
Amid the sha­dows of earth’s lit­tle while.

A lit­tle while for pa­tient vi­gil keep­ing,
To face the storm and wres­tle with the strong;
A lit­tle while to sow the seed with weep­ing,
Then bind the sheaves and sing the har­vest song.

A little while the earth­en pit­cher taking,
To way­side brooks, from far off fount­ains fed;
Then the parch­ed lip its thirst for­ev­er slak­ing
Beside the full­ness of the Fount­ain­head.

A lit­tle while to keep the oil from fail­ing,
A lit­tle while faith’s flick­er­ing lamp to trim;
And then the Bride­groom’s com­ing foot­steps hail­ing,
We’ll haste to meet Him with the brid­al hymn.