The rest that follows pain is sweet,
And after tempest, calm;
The sorrow must be given, else
We needed not the balm.
A night of tempest drear and wild
He gave — He knoweth best —
The boisterous winds and waters raged,
But now He bids them cease,
That we when He has said “Be still,”
May know, with hearts at rest,
A little thrill of thankfulness
That He has given us peace.