Take thine own way with me, dear Lord,
Thou canst not otherwise than bless.
I launch me forth upon a sea
Of boundless love and tenderness.
I could not choose a larger bliss
Than to be wholly thine; and mine
A will whose highest joy is this,
To ceaselessly unclasp in thine.
I will not fear thee, O my God!
The days to come can only bring
Their perfect sequences of love,
Thy larger, deeper comforting.
Within the shadow of this love,
Loss doth transmute itself to gain;
Faith veils earth's sorrow in its light,
And straightway lives above her pain.
We are not losers thus; we share
The perfect gladness of the Son,
Not conquered--for, behold, we reign;
Conquered and Conqueror are one.
Thy wonderful, grand will, my God,
Triumphantly I make it mine;
And faith shall breathe her glad "Amen"
To every dear command of thine.
Beneath the splendor of thy choice,
Thy perfect choice for me, I rest;
Outside it now I dare not live,
Within it I must needs be blest.
Meanwhile my spirit anchors calm
In grander regions still than this;
The fair, far-shining latitudes
Of that yet unexplored bliss.
Then may thy perfect glorious will
Be evermore fulfilled in me,
And make my life an answering chord
Of glad, responsive harmony.
Oh! it is life indeed to live
Within this kingdom strangely sweet;
And yet we fear to enter in,
And linger with unwilling feet.
We fear this wondrous will of thine
Because we have not reached thy heart.
Not venturing our all on thee
We may not know how good thou art.
--Jean Sophia Pigott.
Deep at the heart of all our pain,
In loss as surely as in gain,
His love abideth still.
Let come what will my heart shall stand
On this firm rock at his right hand,
"Father, it is thy will."
--John White Chadwick.