I do not ask that God will always make
My pathway light;
I only pray that He will hold my hand
Throughout the night.
I do not hope to have the thorns removed
That pierce my feet,
I only ask to find His blessed arms
My safe retreat.
If He afflict me, then in my distress
Withholds His hand;
If all His wisdom I cannot conceive
Or understand.
I do not think to always know His why
Or wherefore, here;
But sometime He will take my hand and make
His meaning clear.
If in His furnace He refine my heart
To make it pure,
I only ask for grace to trust His love--
Strength to endure;
And if fierce storms beat round me,
And the heavens be overcast,
I know that He will give His weary one
Sweet peace at last.
* * * * *
THE LAST HYMN.
The Sabbath day was ending in a village by the sea,
The uttered benediction touched the people tenderly,
And they rose to face the sunset in the glowing lighted West
And then hasten to their dwellings for God's blessed boon of rest.
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