All as God wills, who wise­ly heeds
To give or to with­hold,
And know­eth more of all my needs,
Than all my pray­ers have told.

Enough that bless­ings un­de­served
Have marked my err­ing track;
That, where­so­e’er my feet have swerved,
His chast­en­ing turned me back.

That more and more a pro­vi­dence
Of love is un­der­stood,
Making the springs of time and sense
Sweet with eter­nal good.

That death seems but a co­vered way
Which op­ens in­to light,
Wherein no blind­ed child can stray
Beyond the Fa­ther’s sight.

And so the sha­dows fall apart.
And so the west winds play;
And all the wind­ows of my heart
I open to the day.