8.7.
1
Forty years through deserts dreary,
Moses led God’s people on,
Neither age nor cares could weary,
Till his Master’s work was done.
2
Where he once, a child, had floated,
There he waved his mystic rod;
There the prophet, so devoted,
Turned the river into blood.
3
When at length his hair grew hoary,
Honoured, useful, blessing, blest,
God received him up to glory,
Changed his labour into rest.
4
Thus we learn, whate’er betide them,
Saints are safe, though hope be dim;
He, the Lord, will keep and guide them,
Honour those who honour Him.
