Commit thy way to God,
The weight which makes thee faint;
Worlds are to him no load,
To him breathe thy complaint.
He who for winds and clouds
Maketh a pathway free,
Through wastes or hostile crowds,
Can make a way for thee.
Thou must in him be blest
Ere bliss can be secure;
On his works must thou rest
If thy work shall endure.
To anxious, prying thought,
And weary, fretting care,
The highest yieldeth naught:
He giveth all to prayer.
Father, thy faithful love,
Thy mercy, wise and mild,
Sees what will blessing prove,
Or what will hurt thy child;
And what thy wise foreseeing
Doth for thy children choose
Thou bringest into being,
Nor sufferest them to lose.
Hope, then, though woes be doubled;
Hope and be undismayed;
Let not thy heart be troubled,
Nor let it be afraid.
This prison where thou art--
Thy God will break it soon,
And flood with light thy heart
In his own blessed noon.
Up! up! the day is breaking;
Say to thy cares, Good night!
Thy troubles from thee shaking
Like dreams in day's fresh light.
Thou wearest not the crown,
Nor the best course can tell;
God sitteth on the throne
And guideth all things well.
--Paul Gerhardt, tr. by Elizabeth Rundle Charles.