What joy it is to know that I
Do not depend on strength of man;
That I may lean on God
This very hour, and ever can,
To know His infinite design,
For all God has to give is mine.
What blessed joy it is to know
The Father's tender, watchful care
In which His child abides
Is my own heritage to share.
What joy to hear, above the swell
Of sorrow's voice, Love's "all is well."
