Indexes for The Sacred Harp, 1991 Edition

When I can read my title clear,
To mansions in the skies,
I’ll bid farewell to ev’ry fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.

Should earth against my soul engage,
And fiery darts be hurled,
Then I can smile at Satan’s rage,
And face a frowning world.

Let cares, like a wild deluge, come,
Let storms of sorrow fall,
So I but safely reach my home,
My God, my heav’n, my all.

There I shall bathe my weary soul
In seas of heav’nly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast.