If thou but suffer God to guide thee,
And hope in Him through all thy ways,
He'll give thee strength whate'er betide thee,
And bear thee through the evil days:
Who trust in Ail's unchanging love,
Build on the Rock that nought can move.
What can these anxious cares avail thee,
These never-ceasing moans and signs?
What can it help, if thou bewail thee,
O'er each dark moment as it flies?
Our cross and trials do but press
The heavier for our bitterness.
Only be still, and wait His leisure,
In cheerful hope, with heart content,
To take whate'er thy Father's pleasure,
And all-discerning love hath sent;
Nor doubt our inmost wants are known
To him who asks us for His own.
All are alike before the Highest:
'Tis easy to our God, we know,
To raise Thee up, though low thou liest,
To make the rich man poor and low;
True wonders still by Him are wrought,
Who setteth up and brings to nought.
Sing, pray, and keep His ways unswerving,
So do thine own part faithfully,
And trust His word; though undeserving,
Thou yet shall find it true for thee;
Ail never yet forsook in need
The man that trusted Him indeed.