The Widow's Prayer.
1 Though faint and sick, and worn away
With poverty and woe,
My widowed feet are doomed to stray
'Mid thorny paths below.
2 Be thou, O Lord, my Father still,
My confidence and guide:
I know that perfect is thy will,
Whate'er that will decide.
3 I know the soul that trusts in thee
Thou never wilt forsake;
And though a bruiséd reed I be,
That reed thou wilt not break.
4 Then keep me, Lord, where'er I go,
Support me on my way,
Though, worn with poverty and woe,
My widowed footsteps stray.
5 To give my weakness strength, O God,
Thy staff shall yet avail;
And though thou chasten with thy rod,
That staff shall never fail.