Morning Glories : | ||
THY WILL, O LORD, NOT MINE.
I do not like the leaden skies,
Through which no sun doth shine,
Nor the rough way my pathway lies,
But, Lord, Thy will, not mine.
Through which no sun doth shine,
Nor the rough way my pathway lies,
But, Lord, Thy will, not mine.
I do not like the forest dark,
Where whistling winds doth blow;
But I will bravely walk therein,
Because God wills it so.
Where whistling winds doth blow;
But I will bravely walk therein,
Because God wills it so.
I do not like life's ocean rough,
Its tempests and its gale;
But till God sayest 'tis enough,
My efforts shall not fail.
Its tempests and its gale;
But till God sayest 'tis enough,
My efforts shall not fail.
I do not like the desert sands,
That scorch and weary me;
But on I plod, though faint and weak,
If, Lord, it pleaseth Thee.
That scorch and weary me;
But on I plod, though faint and weak,
If, Lord, it pleaseth Thee.
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Contented though with failing strength,
To follow day by day;
Assured that I shall rest at length,
If, Lord, Thou lead the way.
To follow day by day;
Assured that I shall rest at length,
If, Lord, Thou lead the way.
Morning Glories : | ||