Like Noah's weary dove

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Like Noah's weary dove, 
that soared the earth around, 
but not a resting place above 
the cheerless waters found;

O cease, my wandering soul, 
on restless wing 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 blessed.

And, when the waves of ire 
again the earth shall fill, 
the ark shall ride the sea of fire, 
then rest on Zion's hill.

#496 in Hymnal: A Worship Book

Words:  William A. Muhlenberg, Prayer Book Collection, 1826
   Tune:  John H. Hopkins, jr., 1882

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