Afflictions welcomed.

THOUGH hard the winds are blowing, And loud the billows roar, Full swiftly are we going To our dear native shore.

The billows breaking o'er us, The storms that round us swell, Are aiding to restore us To all we lov'd so well.

So sorrow often presses Life's mariner along; Afflictions and distresses Are gales and billows strong.

The sharper and severer, The storm of life we meet, The sooner and the nearer Is heaven's eternal seat.