Thou who art touched with feeling of our woes,
Let me on thee my heavy burden cast!
My aching, anguished heart on thee repose.
Leaving with thee the sad mysterious past;
Let me submissive bow and kiss the rod;
Let me "be still, and know that thou art God."
Why should my harassed agitated mind
Go round and round this terrible event?
Striving in vain some brighter side to find,
Some cause why all this anguish has been sent?
Do I indeed that sacred truth believe--
Thou dost not willingly afflict and grieve?
My lovely gourd is withered in an hour!
I droop, I faint beneath the scorching sun;
My Shepherd, lead me to some sheltering bower;
There where thy little flock "lie down at noon";
Though of my dearest earthly joy bereft
Thou art my portion still; thou, thou, my God, art left.
--Charlotte Elliott.
Says God: "Who comes towards me an inch through doubtings dim,
In blazing light I do approach a yard towards him."
--Oriental, tr. by William Rounseville Alger.
The light of love is round His feet,
His paths are never dim;
And He comes nigh to us, when we
Dare not come nigh to Him.
--Frederick William Faber.
Not in our waking hours alone
His constancy and care are known,
But locked in slumber fast and deep
He giveth to us while we sleep.
--Frederick Lucian Hosmer.