Fret not, poor soul; while doubt and fear
Disturb thy breast,
The pitying angels, who can see
How vain thy wild regret must be,
Say, "Trust and Rest."
Plan not, nor scheme, but calmly wait;
His choice is best;
While blind and erring is thy sight
His wisdom sees and judges right;
So Trust and Rest.
Strive not, nor struggle; thy poor might
Can never wrest
The meanest thing to serve thy will;
All power is his alone. Be still,
And Trust and Rest.
Desire thou not; self-love is strong
Within thy breast,
And yet he loves thee better still:
So let him do his loving will,
And Trust and Rest.
What dost thou fear? His wisdom reigns
Supreme confessed;
His power is infinite; his love
Thy deepest, fondest dreams above!
So Trust and Rest.
--Adelaide Anne Procter.