Be thou content; be still before
His face at whose right hand doth reign
Fullness of joy for evermore,
Without whom all thy toil is vain;
He is thy living spring, thy sun, whose rays
Make glad with life and light thy dreary days.
Be thou content.
In him is comfort, light, and grace,
And changeless love beyond our thought;
The sorest pang, the worst disgrace,
If he is there, shall harm thee not.
He can lift off thy cross and loose thy bands,
And calm thy fears; nay, death is in His hands.
Be thou content.
Or art thou friendless and alone--
Hast none in whom thou canst confide?
God careth for thee, lonely one--
Comfort and help he will provide.
He sees thy sorrows, and thy hidden grief,
He knoweth when to send thee quick relief;
Be thou content.
Thy heart's unspoken pain he knows,
Thy secret sighs he hears full well;
What to none else thou darest disclose
To him thou mayest with boldness tell.
He is not far away, but ever nigh,
And answereth willingly the poor man's cry:
Be thou content.