IT was not so just now. I turned aside
With aching head, and heart most sorely bowed;
Around me cares and griefs in crushing crowd,
While icily on the sense, a swelling tide,
Of weakness, insufficiency, and sin,
And fear, and gloom, and doubt in mighty flood rolled in.
That rushing flood I had no strength to meet,
Nor power to flee; my present, future, past,
Myself, my sorrow, and my sin I cast
In utter helplessness at Jesu’s feet;
Then bent me to the storm, if such His will.
He saw the winds and waves, and whispered,
“Peace, be still!”