GOD'S WILL
OBEDIENCE, DIVINE UNION
THE WILL OF GOD
I worship thee, sweet will of God!
And all thy ways adore.
And every day I live I seem
To love thee more and more.
Thou wert the end, the blessed rule
Of our Saviour's toils and tears;
Thou wert the passion of his heart
Those three and thirty years.
And he hath breathed into my soul
A special love of thee,
A love to lose my will in his,
And by that loss be free.
I love to kiss each print where thou
Hast set thine unseen feet;
I cannot fear thee, blessed will!
Thine empire is so sweet.
When obstacles and trials seem
Like prison walls to be,
I do the little I can do,
And leave the rest to thee.
I know not what it is to doubt;
My heart is ever gay;
I run no risk, for come what will
Thou always hast thy way.
I have no cares, O blessed will!
For all my cares are thine;
I live in triumph, Lord, for thou
Hast made thy triumphs mine.
And when it seems no chance or change
From grief can set me free,
Hope finds its strength in helplessness,
And gayly waits on thee.
Man's weakness waiting upon God
Its end can never miss,
For man on earth no work can do
More angel-like than this.
Ride on, ride on triumphantly,
Thou glorious Will! ride on;
Faith's pilgrim sons behind thee take
The road that thou hast 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 he blesses is our good,
And unblest good is ill;
And all is right that seems most wrong
If it be his sweet will!
—Frederick William Faber.
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THE WILL DIVINE
Thy will, O God, is joy to me,
A gladsome thing;
For in it naught but love I see,
Whate'er it bring.
No bed of pain, no rack of woe—
Thy will is good;
A glory wheresoe'er I go,
My daily food.
Within the circle of thy will
All things abide;
So I, exulting, find no ill
Where thou dost guide.
In that resplendent will of thine
I calmly rest;
Triumphantly I make it mine,
And count it best.
To doubt and gloom and care and fear
I yield no jot;
Thy choice I choose, with soul sincere,
Thrice happy lot!
In all the small events that fall
From day to day
I mark thy hand, I hear thy call,
And swift obey.
I walk by faith, not sense or sight;
Calm faith in thee;
My peace endures, my way is bright,
My heart is free.
Unfaltering trust, complete content,
The days ensphere,
Each meal becomes a sacrament,
And heaven is here.
—James Mudge.
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THE TREE GOD PLANTS
The wind that blows can never kill
The tree God plants;
It bloweth east, it bloweth west,
The tender leaves have little rest,
But any wind that blows is best;
The tree God plants
Strikes deeper root, grows higher still,
Spreads wider boughs, for God's good will
Meets all its wants.
There is no frost hath power to blight
The tree God shields;
The roots are warm beneath soft snows,
And when Spring comes it surely knows,
And every bud to blossom grows.
The tree God shields
Grows on apace by day and night,
Till sweet to taste and fair to sight
Its fruit it yields.
There is no storm hath power to blast
The tree God knows;
No thunderbolt, nor beating rain,
Nor lightning flash, nor hurricane—
When they are spent it doth remain.
The tree God knows
Through every tempest standeth fast,
And from its first day to its last
Still fairer grows.
If in the soul's still garden-place
A seed God sows—
A little seed—it soon will grow,
And far and near all men will know
For heavenly lands he bids it blow.
A seed God sows,
And up it springs by day and night;
Through life, through death, it groweth right;
Forever grows.
—Lillian E. Barr.
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