Let me not say, "Thy will be done,"
And bow my head in meek submission,
Feeling the chastening of One
Invisible, whose cold decision
Withholds the substance of my sweetest dreaming,
Charging that prayer like mine is unbeseeming.
O God of love, "Thy will be done"!
For all Thy will is love revealing,
And, knowing Thee, I need not shun
Thy wisdom, when before Thee kneeling,
But lift my heart in glad assurance, learning
That all is well, where Love abides, discerning.
