A helpful hymn:

My rest is in heaven; my rest is not here
Then why should I murmer when trials are near?
Be hushed my dark spirit! The worst that can come
But shortens my journey, and hastens thee home

It is not for me to be seeking my bliss
And building my hopes in a region like this
I look for a city which hands have not piled
I pant for a country by sin undefiled

The thorn and the thistle around me may grow
I would not lie down upon roses below
I ask not my portion, I seek not a rest
Till I find them, O Lord, in Thy sheltering breast

Afflictions may damp me, they cannot destroy
One glimpse of Thy love turns them all into joy
And the bitterest tears, if Thou smile but on them
Like dew in the sunshine, grow diamond and gem

Let doubt then, and danger, my progress oppose
They only make Heaven more sweet at the close
Come joy, or come sorrow, whate'er may befall
And hour with my God will make up for it all