Commit thy way, O weeper
The cares that fret thy soul,
To thine Almighty Keeper,
Who makes the worlds to roll.
Unto the Lord, who guideth
The wind, and cloud, and sea;
Oh, doubt not He provideth
A footpath, too, for thee.
Trust also, for 'tis useless
To murmur and forebode;
The Almighty arm is doubtless
Full strong to bear thy load.
In Him hide all thy sorrow,
And bid thy fears good-night;
He'll make a glorious morrow
To crown thy head with light.
And He shall bring it near thee
The good thou long hast sought;
Though now it seems to fly thee,
Thou shalt, ere long, be brought.
To pass from grief to gladness,
From night to clearest day,
When doubts, and fears, and sadness,
Shall all have passed away.
PAUL GERHARDT.