Often when we sit and pon­der
O’er the cares that life may bring,
We can on­ly look to Je­sus,
Our Re­deem­er and our king;
Tho’ sore tri­als may sur­round us,
Or our way may be more smooth,
’Tis by bless­ings or af­flict­ions
That He doth our mo­tives prove.

While mis­takes are ev­er near us,
And our mo­tives miss their aim,
We should not become dis­cour­aged,
But be­lieve that Christ, the same
Yesterday, to­day, to­mor­row,
Will for­give us if we come
With a heart of god­ly sor­row,
And an hon­est, plead­ing tongue.

Disappointments may sur­round us,
Chastenings may come se­vere,
But we have the bless­èd pro­mise
That a com­fort­er is near;
Whom the Lord loves He will chast­en,
And He scourg­eth eve­ry son,
Who, re­ceived thus in­to glo­ry,
Ever says, His will be done.

In our up­ward, pilg­rim jour­ney,
May we to each oth­er show
Love un­change­able, un­fad­ing,
That in peace we on­ward go;
Till the sum­mons at death’s por­tals
Shall our wea­ry eye­lids close,
Then we meet those gone, im­mor­tal,
Who are free from cares and woes.