Thy way and all thy sor­rows,
Give thou into His hand,
His gra­cious care un­fail­ing,
Who doth the heav’ns com­mand.
Their course and path He giv­eth
To clouds and air and wind;
A way thy feet may fol­low,
He too for thee will find.

On Him be thy re­li­ance,
As thou wouldst pros­per well;
To make thy work enduring
Thy mind on His must dwell.
God yield­eth naught to sor­row
And self tor­ment­ing care;
Naught, naught with him avail­eth;
No pow­er save that of pray­er.

Thy truth and grace, O Fa­ther,
Behold and sure­ly know,
Both what is good and ev­il,
For mor­tal man below:
And what­so­e’er Thou choos­est
Thou dost, great God, ful­fill,
And in­to be­ing bring­est
Whate’er is in Thy will.

Thy way is ev­er op­en;
Thou dost on naught de­pend;
Thine act is on­ly bless­ing,
Thy path light with­out end.
Thy work can no man hin­der;
Thy pur­pose none can stay,
Since Thou to bless Thy child­ren
Through all dost make a way.

In vain the pow­ers of dark­ness
Thy will, O God, op­pose;
High ov­er all un­doubt­ing,
Thy plea­sure on­ward goes.
Whate’er Thy will re­solv­eth,
Whate’er Thou dost in­tend,
Its des­tined work per­form­eth
True to its aim and end.

Then hope, my fee­ble spir­it,
And be thou un­dis­mayed;
God helps in ev­ery tri­al,
And makes thee un­afraid.
Await God’s time with plea­sure,
Then shall thine eyes be­hold
The sun of joy and glad­ness
His bright­est beams un­fold.

Arise, arise! thy sad­ness,
Thy cares send far away;
Away each thought af­flic­ting
That on the heart doth prey.
Not in thy hands the guid­ance
Of all ev­ents doth dwell;
God on His throne o’er­rul­eth,
He guid­eth all things well.

Leave all to His di­rect­ion;
In wis­dom He doth reign;
Thy won­der far ex­ceed­ing,
His will His course main­tain;
So He as Him be­seem­eth,
With won­der work­ing skill,
Shall put away the sor­rows
That now thy spir­it fill.

Awhile His con­so­la­tion
He will to thee de­ny,
And seem as though in spir­it
He far from thee would fly;
Awhile dis­tress and ang­uish
Shall com­pass thee around,
Nor to thy sup­pli­ca­tion
An an­swer­ing voice be found.

But if thou ne’er for­sake Him,
Thou shalt de­liv­er­ance find;
Behold all un­ex­pect­ed,
He will thy soul un­bind.
He from thy hea­vy bur­den
Will soon thy heart set free;
Yea, from that weight no ev­il
Hath yet be­fall­en thee.

Thou child of truth, how bless­èd!
A con­quer­or soon shalt be,
With songs of glad thanks­giv­ing
A crown await­eth thee.
To thee the palm tri­um­phal
By God’s own hand is giv’n,
Thine, to His name who saved thee,
To sing the songs of Heav’n.

Give, Lord, the con­sum­ma­tion
To all our hearts’ dis­tress;
Our hands, our feet, O strength­en;
In death our spir­its bless.
Thy truth and Thy pro­tect­ion
For ev­er­more we pray:
With these in heav’n­ly glo­ry
Shall end our cer­tain way.