My heart is resting, O my God!
I will give thanks and sing;
My heart has found the secret source
Of every precious thing.
Yes! the frail vessel Thou hast made
No hand but Thine can fill—
For the waters of the earth have failed,
And I am thirsty still,
I thirst for springs of heavenly life,
And from Thyself they rise;
I seek the treasure of Thy love,
And close at hand it lies.
Thus a new song is in my mouth,
To long loved music set:
Glory to Thee for all the grace
I have but tasted yet.
Glory to Thee for strength withheld,
For want and weakness known—
For fear that sends me to Thy breast
For what is most my own.
I have a heritage of joy
That yet I cannot see;
But He who bled to make it mine
Is keeping it for me.
There is a certainty of love
That sets my heart at rest;
A calm assurance for today,
That to be weak is best;
My soul reposeth on Thy truth,
Who hath made all things mine,
Who gently bends my forward will,
And makes it one with Thine.
I will give thanks for suffering now,
For want, and toil, and loss;
For the death that sin makes hard and slow
Upon my Savior’s cross.
Sometimes I long for promised bliss,
But ‘twill not come too late—
And songs of patient faith may rise
From the place wherein I wait.
Mine be the reverent, listening love
That waits all day on Thee,
With the service of a watchful hear
Which no one else can see:
The faith that in a hidden way
No other eye may know,
Finds all its daily work prepared,
And loves to have it so.
My heart is resting, O my God!
My heart is in Thy care,
And while it finds its joy in Thee,
Can trust Thee everywhere;
The heart that ministers for Thee
In Thine own work will rest;
And the subject spirit of a child
Can serve Thy children best.