O let my trembling soul be still,
While darkness veils this mortal eye,
And wait Thy wise, Thy holy will,
Wrapt yet in fears and mystery;
I cannot, Lord! Thy purpose see;
Yet all is well-since ruled by Thee.
When, mounted on Thy clouded car,
Thou send'st Thy darker spirits down,
I can discern Thy light afar,
Thy light, sweet beaming through Thy frown;
And should I faint a moment-then
I think of Thee,-and smile again.
So, trusting in Thy love, I tread
The narrow path of duty on;
What though some cherished joys are fled?
What though some flattering dreams are gone?
Yet purer, brighter joys remain;
Why should my spirit, then, complain?