AND can’st thou, oh my soul, repine,
Or murmur at thy Father’s will?
Oh, listen to His gracious voice,
And hear Him say, “I love thee still.”
’Tis His own, hand that holds the cup,
Then take and drink it joyfully,
Has He not promised in His Word,
That as thy day thy strength shall be.
What though He use the chastening rod,
’Tis thus He shows a Father’s love;
And shall I shrink beneath the stroke,
While thus His faithfulness I prove?
No! rather would I lift my voice,
And sing His praise while in the fire,
Since all I need He’ll freely give,
What more on earth can I desire.
Oh that I had but simple faith,
To take my Father at His word,
To leave the cares of life behind,
And follow patiently my Lord.
’Tis only for a little while,
And then, oh precious, precious thought,
I shall be with Him where He is,
To love and praise Him as I ought.
Till then I would to all His will
Obedient and submissive be,
And only wish to love Him more,
For all His boundless love to me.