Lord, teach me how to trust in Thee,
And how less unbelieving be;
To place on Thine unerring care
Those most I love, and leave them there.
For faith is not a mere belief
That Thou canst aid in bitter grief;
Oh!’tis far greater blessings, Lord,
Are promised in Thy gracious Word.
’Tis grasping Thee, when all are gone,
’Tis viewing Thee, when quite alone;
’Tis pillowing on Thine unseen arm,
Supported there, and free from harm.
’Tis calm assurance all is well,
Though how, or where, I cannot tell;
’Tis hearkening when no voice I hear,
’Tis smiling, though I weep and fear.
’Tis telling Thee my every thought,
’Tis finding all I’ve ever sought;
’Tis treading on through life’s lone walk
In sweet companionship and talk.
’Tis hurrying to a glorious end,
’Tis pressing towards my bosom Friend;
’Tis meeting Him: come, Jesus, come;
’Tis folding tent, and reaching home!