I Bow me to Thy will, O God!
And all Thy ways adore;
And every day I live, I'd seek
To please Thee more and more.
Thy will the end, the blessed rule
Of Jesu's toils and tears;
Thy will the passion of His heart,
Those three-and-thirty years.
And He hath breathed into my soul
A special love to Thee,
A love to lose my will in Thine,
And by that loss be free.
I love to kiss each print where Christ
Did set His pilgrim feet;
Nor can I fear that blessed path,
Whose traces are so sweet.
I have no cares, O blessed Lord!
For all my cares are Thine;
I live in triumph, too, for Thou
Hest made Thy triumphs mine.
And when it seems no chance nor change
From grief can set me free,
Hope finds its strength in helplessness,
And, patient, waits on Thee.
Man's weakness, waiting upon God,
Its end can never miss;
For men on earth no work can do
More angel-like than this.
Lead on, lead on, triumphantly,
O blessed Lord! lead on:
Faith's pilgrim sons behind Thee seek
The road that Thou halt gone.
He always wins who sides with God,
To him no chance is lost;
God's will is sweetest to him when
It triumphs at his cost.
Ill that God blesses is our good,
And unblest good is ill;
And all is right that seems most wrong,
If it be His sweet will.