Thou sweet, beloved will of G.o.d, My anchor ground, my fortress hill, My spirit's silent, fair abode, In thee I hide me and am still.

O Will, that willest good alone, Lead thou the way, thou guidest best; A little child, I follow on, And, trusting, lean upon thy breast.

Thy beautiful sweet will, my G.o.d, Holds fast in its sublime embrace My captive will, a gladsome bird, Prisoned in such a realm of grace.

Within this place of certain good Love evermore expands her wings, Or, nestling in thy perfect choice, Abides content with what it brings.

Oh lightest burden, sweetest yoke!

It lifts, it bears my happy soul, It giveth wings to this poor heart; My freedom is thy grand control.

Upon G.o.d's will I lay me down, As child upon its mother's breast; No silken couch, nor softest bed, Could ever give me such deep rest.

Thy wonderful grand will, my G.o.d, With triumph now I make it mine; And faith shall cry a joyous Yes!

To every dear command of thine.

AS IT WAS TO BE

The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare!

The spray of the tempest is white in air; The winds are out with the waves at play, And I shall not tempt the sea to-day.

The trail is narrow, the wood is dim, The panther clings to the arching limb; And the lion's whelps are abroad at play, And I shall not join in the chase to-day.

But the ship sailed safely over the sea, And the hunters came from the chase in glee; And the town that was builded upon a rock Was swallowed up in the earthquake's shock.

--Francis Bret Harte.

USEFUL ACCORDING TO G.o.d'S WILL

Let me not die before I've done for thee My earthly work, whatever it may be; Call me not hence with mission unfulfilled; Let me not leave my s.p.a.ce of ground untilled; Impress this truth upon me, that not one Can do my portion that I leave undone.

Then give me strength all faithfully to toil, Converting barren earth to fruitful soil.

I long to be an instrument of thine For gathering worshipers into thy shrine: To be the means one human soul to save From the dark terrors of a hopeless grave.

Yet most I want a spirit of content To work where'er thou'lt wish my labor spent, Whether at home or in a stranger's clime, In days of joy or sorrow's sterner time; I want a spirit pa.s.sive to be still, And by thy power to do thy holy will.

And when the prayer unto my lips doth rise, "Before a new home doth my soul surprise, Let me accomplish _some great work_ for thee,"

Subdue it, Lord; let my pet.i.tion be, "O make me useful in this world of thine, In ways according to thy will, not mine."

AS THOU WILT

My Jesus, as thou wilt: O may thy will be mine; Into thy hand of love I would my all resign.

Through sorrow or through joy Conduct me as thine own, And help me still to say, "My Lord, thy will be done."

My Jesus, as thou wilt: If needy here, and poor, Give me thy people's bread, Their portion rich and sure.

The manna of thy word Let my soul feed upon; And if all else should fail-- My Lord, thy will be done.

My Jesus, as thou wilt: If among thorns I go, Still sometimes here and there Let a few roses blow.

But thou on earth along The th.o.r.n.y path hast gone; Then lead me after thee.

My Lord, thy will be done!

My Jesus, as thou wilt: Though seen through many a tear, Let not my star of hope Grow dim or disappear.

Since thou on earth hast wept And sorrowed oft alone, If I must weep with thee, My Lord, thy will be done.

My Jesus, as thou wilt: If loved ones must depart Suffer not sorrow's flood To overwhelm my heart.

For they are blest with thee, Their race and conflict won; Let me but follow them.

My Lord, thy will be done!

My Jesus, as thou wilt: When death itself draws nigh, To thy dear wounded side I would for refuge fly.

Leaning on thee, to go Where thou before hast gone; The rest as thou shalt please.

My Lord, thy will be done!

My Jesus, as thou wilt: All shall be well for me; Each changing future scene I gladly trust with thee.

Straight to my home above, I travel calmly on, And sing in life or death, "My Lord, thy will be done."

--Benjamin Schmolke, tr. by J. Borthwick.

GREAT AND SMALL

There is no great nor small in Nature's plan, Bulk is but fancy in the mind of man; A raindrop is as wondrous as a star, Near is not nearest, farthest is not far; And suns and planets in the vast serene Are lost as midges in the summer sheen, Born in their season; and we live and die Creatures of Time, lost in Eternity.

--Charles Mackay.

G.o.d'S WILL BE DONE

My G.o.d, my Father, while I stray Far from my home, on life's rough way, O teach me from my heart to say, "Thy will be done!"

Though dark my path, and sad my lot, Let me "be still," and murmur not; O breathe the prayer divinely taught, "Thy will be done!"

What though in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved, no longer nigh, Submissive still would I reply "Thy will be done!"

Though thou hast called me to resign What most I prized, it ne'er was mine; I have but yielded what was thine; "Thy will be done!"

Should grief or sickness waste away My life in premature decay; My Father! still I strive to say, "Thy will be done!"

Let but my fainting heart be blest With thy sweet Spirit for its guest; My G.o.d! to thee I leave the rest: "Thy will be done!"

Renew my will from day to day!

Blend it with thine; and take away All that now makes it hard to say, "Thy will be done!"

Then, when on earth I breathe no more The prayer oft mixed with tears before, I'll sing upon a happier sh.o.r.e: "Thy will be done!"

--Charlotte Elliott.