Oft there comes a gentle whisper o'er me stealing,
When my trials and my burdens seem too great,
Like the sweet-voiced bells of evening softly pealing,
It is saying to my spirit, Only wait.
When I cannot understand my Father's leading,
And it seems to be but hard and cruel fate,
Still I hear that gentle whisper ever pleading,
God is working; God is faithful; only wait.
When the promise seems to linger, long delaying,
And I tremble lest, perhaps, it omes too late,
Still I hear that sweet-voiced angel ever saying,
Though it tarry, it is coming, only wait.
When I see the wicked prosper in their sinning,
And the righteous pressed by many a cruel strait,
I remember this is only the beginning,
And I whisper to my spirit, Only wait.
Oh, how little soon will seem our hardest sorrow,
And how trifling is our present brief estate,
Could we see it in the light of heaven's to-morrow,
Oh, how easy it would be for us to wait.
I have chosen my eternal portion yonder,
I am pressing hard to reach the heavenly gate;
And though oft along the path I weep and wonder,
Still I hear that angel whisper, Only wait.
