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 shalt thou abide,
There sweet shall be thy rest,
And ev­ery long­ing sa­tis­fied,
With full sal­va­tion blessed.

Ah, yes! I all for­sake,
My all to Thee re­sign;
Gracious Re­deem­er, take, O take
And seal me ev­er Thine.