When battle's clang is ended, 
And when the conflict's over, 
When  marching for the  night is done,
Across the parted sea.
A place of resting waits us,
Beneath the palms of  Elim,
A place of sweet refreshment,
For the souls of you and me.

That place of sweet refreshment, 
Is at the feet of Jesus 
'Tis there He stills the tumult 
That is in the troubled breast. 
In place of dreary sorrow,
He gives the oil long his gladness, 
The  garment of thanksgiving, 
And the rose of peace and rest.

Oh, turn aside ye pilgrims, 
Refresh your souls in Jesus, 
He is the palm of comfort, 
And He  is the fountain's brink.
The Christian hath his Elim, 
Along his desert journey,
The fount of life is flowing, 
Come ye thirsty souls and drink.