DEAR Father, I submit,
Trusting in Thee alone,
I bow in faith beneath Thy feet,
And say, “Thy will be done.”
I’ll take the bitter cup
Thy love prepares for me,
I’ll take it, Lord, and drink it up,
However hard it be.
Ah, ’tis not bitter now,
When sweetened with Thy love:
That love that can allay my fears,
And all my doubts remove.
That ever-living love
That bids my sorrow cease,
That calms the tumult of my breast,
And sweetly whispers— “Peace.”
Oh matchless, boundless love,
That flows direct from Thee,
In all my sorrow, grief, and pain,
Love, only love, I see.
’Tis love inflicts the blow,
Though it may cause me pain,
’Tis love permits my tears to flow,
Nor lets them flow in vain.
’Tis love that lays me low,
Beneath the chastening rod,
And love supports my drooping soul,
The matchless love of God.
Dear Father, I submit,
Constrained by love alone,
I bow in faith beneath Thy feet,
And say, “Thy will be done.”