I asked for grace to lift me high,
Above the world's depressing cares.
God sent me sorrows,--with a sigh
I said, He has not heard my prayers.
I asked for light, that I might see
My path along life's thorny road;
But clouds and darkness shadowed me
When I expected light from God.
I asked for peace, that I might rest
To think my sacred duties o'er,
When lo! such horrors filled my breast
As I had never felt before.
And O, I cried, can this be prayer
Whose plaints the steadfast mountains move?
Can this be heaven's prevailing care?
And, O my God, is this thy love?
But soon I found that sorrow, worn
As duty's garment, strength supplies,
And out of darkness meekly borne
Unto the righteous light doth rise.
And soon I found that fears which stirred
My startled soul God's will to do,
On me more real peace conferred
Than in life's calm I ever knew.
Then, Lord, in thy mysterious ways
Lead my dependent spirit on,
And whensoe'er it kneels and prays,
Teach it to say, "Thy will be done!"
Let its one thought, one hope, one prayer,
Thine image seek, thy glory see;
Let every other wish and care
Be left confidingly to thee.
--John Samuel Bewley Monsell.