RUSSELL (As written)
Note that the book from which this song was taken is currently out of print.
Ye humble souls, complain no more;
Let faith survey your future store;
How happy, how divinely blest,
The sacred words of truth attest!
When conscious grief laments sincere,
And pours the penitential tear,
Hope points to your dejected eyes,
The bright reversion in the skies.