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 Where’s Over 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;
That Care And Trial Seem At Last,
Through Memory’s Sunset Air,
Like Mountain Ranges Over Past,
In Purple Distance Fair;
That All The Jarring Notes Of Life
Seem Blending In A Psalm,
And All The Angles Of Its Strife
Slow Rounding Into Calm.
And So The Shadows Fall Apart,
And So The West Winds Play;
And All The Windows Of My Heart
I Open To The Day.
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