THOU sweet beloved Will of God,
My anchor ground, my fortress hill,
The Spirit's silent fair abode,
In Thee I hide me and am still.
O Will, that wiliest good alone,
Lead Thou the way, Thou guidest best;
A silent child, I follow on,
And trusting, lean upon Thy Breast.
God's Will doth make the bitter sweet,
And all is well when it is done;
Unless His Will doth hallow it,
The glory of all joy is gone.
Self, Sense, and Reason, they may scorn
That hidden way that leads on high—
Still be my deepest will uptorn,
And so the power of Nature die.
And if in gloom I see Thee not,
I lean upon Thy love unknown—
In me Thy blessed Will is wrought,
If I will nothing of my own.
O spirit of a little child,
Of will bereft, untroubled, pure,
I seek thy glory undefiled;
Lord, take my will, Thy love is sure.
O Will of God, my soul's desire,
My Bread of life in want and pain;
O Will of God, my guiding fire,
Unite my will to Thine again.
O Will, in me Thy work be done,
For time, and for eternity—
Give joy or sorrow, all are one
To that blest soul that loveth Thee.
G. Ter Steegen.