1 In Thy heart and hands, my God,
Calmly now my soul reposes,
Waiting patiently the end
That Thy aim in all discloses;
Stripped of self, how sweet my rest
On my loving Father's breast.
2 And my soul repineth not,
Well content whate'er befall it;
Murmurs, wishes of self-will,
Doomed to death, no more enthrall it;
Restless thoughts, that fret and crave,
Slumber in my Savior's grave.
3 And my soul doth cease from cares,
From the thoughts that sore perplex us,
That destroy the inner peace,
For like sharpest thorns they vex us;
He who made her careth well,
It but seeks in peace to dwell.
4 And my soul despaireth not,
Loves Him most when sad and lonely;
Grief that wrings and breaks the heart
Comes to those who hate Him only;
They who love Him still possess
Comfort in their worst distress.
5 And my soul complaineth not,
For no pain or fears dismay it,
Still she clings to God in faith,
Trusts Him, though He seem to slay it.
'T is when flesh and blood repine,
Sun of joy, Thou canst not shine.
6 Thus my soul is still and waits,
Every murmuring word she hushes,
Conqu'ring thus the pain or wrong
That the restless spirit crushes;
Like a silent ocean, bright
With its Maker's praise and light.