898 L. M. Submissiveness.
Be still, my heart! these anxious cares, To thee are burdens, thorns, and snares; They cast dishonor on thy Lord, And contradict his gracious word.
2 Brought safely by his hand thus far, Why wilt thou now give place to fear? How canst thou want if he provide, Or lose thy way with such a guide?
3 Did ever trouble yet befall, And he refuse to hear thy call? And has he not his promise passed, That thou shalt overcome at last?
4 He who has helped me hitherto Will help me all my journey through, And give me daily cause to raise New trophies to his endless praise.
899 L. M. Whom have I in heaven but thee. Psalm 73:25.
O Lord, thy counsels and thy care, My safety and my comfort are; And thou shalt guide me all my days, Till glory crown the work of grace.
2 In whom but thee, in heaven above, Can I repose my trust, my love? And shall an earthly object be Loved in comparison with thee?
3 My flesh is hastening to decay; Soon shall the world have passed away; And what can mortal friends avail, When heart, and strength, and life shall fail?
4 But O! my Saviour, be thou nigh, And I will triumph when I die; My strength, my portion, is divine; And Jesus is for ever mine!
900 8s & 4s. Thy will be done.
My God, 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!”
2 What though in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved no longer nigh; Submissive still would I reply, “Thy will be done!”
3 If thou shouldst call me to resign What most I prize—it ne’er was mine; I only yield thee what was thine: “Thy will be done!”
4 If but my fainting heart be blest With thy sweet Spirit for its guest, My God, to thee I leave the rest: “Thy will be done!”
901 L. M. 6 lines. My grace is sufficient for thee. 2 Cor. 12:9.
To weary hearts, to mourning homes, God’s meekest angel gently comes; No power hath he to banish pain, Or give us back our lost again; And yet, in tenderest love, our dear And heavenly Father sends him here.
2 Angel of patience! sent to calm Our feverish brows with cooling balm, To lay with hope the storms of fear, And reconcile life’s smile and tear, The throbs of wounded pride to still, And make our own our Father’s will!
3 O thou, who mournest on thy way, With longings for the close of day, He walks with thee, that angel kind, And gently whispers, “Be resigned! Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell, The dear Lord ordereth all things well.”
902 L. M. 6 lines. Thy footsteps are not known. Psalm 77:19.
O let my trembling soul be still, While darkness vails this mortal eye, And wait thy wise, thy holy will, Wrapped yet in fears and mystery; I can not, Lord, thy purpose see; Yet all is well, since ruled by thee.
2 So trusting in thy love, I tread The narrow path of duty on; What though some cherished joys are fled? What though some flattering dreams are gone? Yet purer, nobler joys remain, And peace is won through conquered pain.
903 L. M. 6 lines. Deut. 33:25.
When adverse winds and waves arise, And in my heart despondence sighs; When life her throng of cares reveals, And weakness o’er my spirit steals, Grateful I hear the kind decree, That “as my day, my strength shall be.”
2 When, with sad footsteps, memory roves ’Mid smitten joys and buried loves, When sleep my tearful pillow flies, And dewy morning drinks my sighs, Still to thy promise, Lord! I flee, That “as my day, my strength shall be.”
3 One trial more must yet be past: One pang—the keenest and the last; And when, with brow convulsed and pale, My feeble, quivering heart-strings fail, Redeemer! grant my soul to see, That “as my day, my strength shall be.”
904 C. M. Not as I will. Mark 14:36.
All as God wills! who wisely heeds To give or to withhold, And knoweth more of all my needs Than all my prayers have told.
2 Enough that blessings undeserved Have marked my erring track— That wheresoe’er my feet have swerved, His chastening turned me back—
3 That more and more a Providence, Of love is understood, Making the springs of time and sense Sweet with eternal good—
4 That death seems but a covered way Which opens into light, Wherein no blinded child can stray Beyond the Father’s sight—
5 That care and trial seem at last, Through memory’s sunset air, Like mountain ranges overpast, In purple distance fair—
6 That all the jarring notes of life, Seem blending in a psalm, And all the angles of its strife Slow rounding into calm.
7 And so the shadows fall apart And so the west winds play; And all the windows of my heart I open to the day.