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Comfort Ye My People

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D.C. · Nov 12, 1903

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 80, No. 45.

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Comfort Ye My People

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE
O comfort my people; their sorrows are deep; For the sinners in Zion are idly asleep, And the hypocrite mocks at the chosen of God, While the voice of the scoffer is sounding abroad.
O comfort my people; and thus shall ye cry: “Though, stricken by famine, a thousand shall die, By the hand of Jehovah his own shall be fed, Though the plague-stricken earth shall be strewn with her dead.”
O comfort my people; my care will I prove, I will watch o’er mine own with the tenderest love; For the angels of God shall encompass their path, And protect my beloved from the enemy’s wrath.
O comfort my people; though dark be the sky, The beloved of my soul shall not languish and die; Though the waves of affliction in torrents may roll, I will say to mine own, “It is well with thy soul.”
Then comfort my people; the morning draws nigh When the chariots of God shall descend from the sky, And the trumpet shall sound o’er the universe broad, And mine own shall ascend to the city of God.