I look not back; God knows the fruit­less efforts,
The wast­ed hours, the sin­ning, the re­grets.
I leave them all with Him who blots the re­cord,
And gra­cious­ly for­gives, and then for­gets.

I look not for­ward; God sees all the fu­ture,
The road that, short or long, will lead me home,
And He will face with me its ev­ery tri­al,
And bear for me the bur­dens that may come.

I look not round me; then would fears as­sail me,
So wild the tu­mult of earth’s rest­less seas,
So dark the world, so filled with woe and ev­il,
So vain the hope of com­fort and of ease.

I look not in­ward; that would make me wretch­ed;
For I have naught on which to stay my trust.
Nothing I see save fail­ures and short­com­ings,
And weak en­dea­vors, crumb­ling in­to dust.

But I look up—in­to the face of Je­sus,
For there my heart can rest, my fears are stilled;
And there is joy, and love, and light for dar­kness,
And per­fect peace, and ev­ery hope ful­filled.