TRUST

Since thy Father's arm sustains thee, Peaceful be; When a chastening hand restrains thee, It is he. Know his love in full completeness Fills the measure of thy weakness; If He wound the spirit sore, Trust him more. Without murmur, uncomplaining, In His hand. Lay whatever things thou canst not Understand. Though the world thy folly spurneth, From thy faith in pity turneth, Peace thy inmost soul shall fill, Lying still. Like an infant, if thou thinkest Thou canst stand, Childlike, proudly pushing back The offered hand, Courage soon is changed to fear, Strength doth feebleness appear; In his love if thou abide, He will guide. Fearest sometimes that thy Father Hath forgot? When the clouds around thee gather, Doubt him not. Always hath the daylight broken; Always hath He comfort spoken; Better hath he been for years Than thy fears. Therefore, whatsoe'er betideth, Night or day, Know His love for thee provideth Good alway. Crown of sorrow gladly take; Grateful wear it for His sake; Sweetly bending to his will, Lying still. To his own thy Saviour giveth Daily strength. To each troubled soul that liveth, Peace at length. Weakest lambs have largest share Of the tender Shepherd's care; Ask him not the "When," or "How"; Only bow. —Charles Rudolf Hagenbach.

I am glad to think I am not bound to make the world go right, But only to discover and to do With cheerful heart the work that God appoints. I will trust in him That he can hold his own; and I will take His will, above the work he sendeth me, To be my chiefest good. —Jean Ingelow.

I know not if the dark or bright Shall be my lot; If that wherein my hopes delight Be best or not. It may be mine to drag for years Toil's heavy chain; Or day and night my meat be tears, On bed of pain. Dear faces may surround my hearth With smiles and glee; Or I may dwell alone, and mirth Be strange to me. My bark is wafted to the strand By breath divine; And on the helm there rests a hand Other than mine. One who has known in storms to sail I have on board; Above the raging of the gale I hear my Lord. He holds me when the billows smite; I shall not fall; If sharp, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light, He tempers all. Safe to the land, safe to the land! The end is this: And then with him go, hand in hand, Far into bliss. —Dean Alford.

I cannot see, with my small human sight, Why God should lead this way or that for me; I only know he saith, "Child, follow me." But I can trust. I know not why my path should be at times So straitly hedged, so strongly barred before; I only know God could keep wide the door; But I can trust. I find no answer, often, when beset With questions fierce and subtle on my way, And often have but strength to faintly pray; But I can trust. I often wonder, as with trembling hand I cast the seed along the furrowed ground, If ripened fruit will in my life be found; But I can trust. I cannot know why suddenly the storm Should rage so fiercely round me in its wrath; But this I know—God watches all my path, And I can trust. I may not draw aside the mystic veil That hides the unknown future from my sight; Nor know if for me waits the dark or light; But I can trust. I have no power to look across the tide, To see, while here, the land beyond the river; But this I know, I shall be God's forever; So I can trust.

The world is wide In time and tide, And God is guide; Then do not hurry. That man is blest Who does his best And leaves the rest; Then do not worry. —Charles F. Deems.

Whate'er my God ordains is right; His will is ever just; Howe'er he orders now my cause I will be still, and trust. He is my God, Though dark my road, He holds me that I shall not fall, Wherefore to him I leave it all. Whate'er my God ordains is right; He never will deceive; He leads me by the proper path, And so to him I cleave, And take, content, What he hath sent; His hand can turn my grief away, And patiently I wait his day. Whate'er my God ordains is right; He taketh thought for me; The cup that my Physician gives No poisoned draught can be, But medicine due; For God is true; And on that changeless truth I build And all my heart with hope is filled. Whate'er my God ordains is right; Though I the cup must drink That bitter seems to my faint heart, I will not fear nor shrink; Tears pass away With dawn of day; Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart, And pain and sorrow all depart. Whate'er my God ordains is right; My Light, my Life, is he, Who cannot will me aught but good; I trust him utterly; For well I know, In joy or woe, We soon shall see, as sunlight clear, How faithful was our Guardian here. Whate'er my God ordains is right; Here will I take my stand; Though sorrow, need, or death, make earth For me a desert land. My Father's care Is round me there; He holds me that I shall not fall, And so to him I leave it all. —S. Rodigast.

"My times are in thy hand"; My God, I wish them there; My life, my friends, my soul, I leave Entirely to thy care. "My times are in thy hand," Whatever they may be; Pleasing or painful, dark or bright, As best may seem to thee. "My times are in thy hand"; Why should I doubt or fear? My Father's hand will never cause His child a needless tear. "My times are in thy hand," Jesus, the crucified! The hand my cruel sins had pierced Is now my guard and guide. "My times are in thy hand"; I'll always trust in thee; And, after death, at thy right hand I shall forever be. —William F. Lloyd.

Away, my needless fears, And doubts no longer mine; A ray of heavenly light appears, A messenger divine. Thrice comfortable hope, That calms my troubled breast; My Father's hand prepares the cup And what he wills is best. If what I wish is good, And suits the will divine, By earth and hell in vain withstood, I know it shall be mine. Still let them counsel take To frustrate his decree; They cannot keep a blessing back, By heaven designed for me. Here, then, I doubt no more; But in his pleasure rest Whose wisdom, love, and truth, and power, Engage to make me blest. —Charles Wesley.

Leave God to order all thy ways, And hope in him, whate'er betide, Thou'lt find in him, in evil days, Thy all-sufficient strength and guide. Who trusts in God's unchanging love Builds on the rock that naught can move. What can these anxious cares avail, The never-ceasing moans and sighs? What can it help us to bewail Each painful moment as it flies? Our cross and trials do but press The heavier for our bitterness. Only thy restless heart keep still, And wait in cheerful hope, content To take whate'er his gracious will, His all-discerning love, hath sent. Nor doubt our inmost wants are known To him who chose us for his own. He knows when joyful hours are best; He sends them as he sees it meet; When thou hast borne the fiery test, And now art freed from all deceit, He comes to thee all unaware And makes thee own his loving care. Nor in the heat of pain and strife Think God has cast thee off unheard, And that the man whose prosperous life Thou enviest is of him preferred. Time passes, and much change doth bring And sets a bound to everything. All are alike before his face; 'Tis easy to our God most high To make the rich man poor and base, To give the poor man wealth and joy; True wonders still by him are wrought Who setteth up and brings to naught. Sing, pray, and swerve not from his ways, But do thine own part faithfully; Trust his rich promises of grace, So shall they be fulfilled in thee. God never yet forsook at need The soul that trusted him indeed. —George Neumarck.

Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell The dear Lord ordereth all things well. —John Greenleaf Whittier.

There is a safe and secret place, Beneath the wings divine, Reserved for all the heirs of grace: O be that refuge mine! The least and feeblest there may bide, Uninjured and unawed; While thousands fall on every side, He rests secure in God. He feeds in pastures large and fair Of love and trust divine; O child of God, O glory's heir, How rich a lot is thine! A hand almighty to defend, An ear for every call, An honored life, a peaceful end, And heaven to crown it all! —Henry F. Lyte.

Our Father! through the coming year We know not what shall be; But we would leave without a fear Its ordering all to thee. It may be we shall toil in vain For what the world holds fair; And all the good we thought to gain Deceive, and prove but care. It may be it shall darkly blend Our love with anxious fears, And snatch away the valued friend, The tried of many years. It may be it shall bring us days And nights of lingering pain; And bid us take a farewell gaze Of these loved haunts of men. But calmly, Lord, on thee we rest; No fears our trust shall move; Thou knowest what for each is best, And thou art Perfect Love. —Eliza Cleghorn Gaskell.

Forever in their Lord abiding Who can their gladness tell; Within his love forever hiding, They feel that all is well.

I know no life divided, O Lord of life, from thee; In thee is life provided For all mankind and me: I know no death, O Jesus, Because I live in thee; Thy death it is which frees us From death eternally. I fear no tribulation, Since, whatsoe'er it be, It makes no separation Between my Lord and me. If thou, my God and Teacher, Vouchsafe to be my own, Though poor, I shall be richer Than monarch on his throne. If while on earth I wander My heart is light and blest, Ah, what shall I be yonder, In perfect peace and rest? O blessed thought! in dying We go to meet the Lord, Where there shall be no sighing, A kingdom our reward. —Carl J. P. Spitta.

I say it over and over, and yet again to-day, It rests my heart as surely as it did yesterday: It is the Lord's appointment; Whatever my work may be, I am sure in my heart of hearts He has offered it to me. I must say it over and over, and again to-day For my work is different from that of yesterday: It is the Lord's appointment; It quiets my restless will Like the voice of a tender mother, And my heart and will are still. I will say it over and over, this and every day, Whatsoever the Master orders, come what may: It is the Lord's appointment; For only his love can see What is wisest, best and right— What is truly good for me.

I know not what the future holds, Of good or ill for me and mine; I only know that God enfolds Me in his loving arms divine. So I shall walk the earth in trust That He who notes the sparrow's fall Will help me bear whate'er I must And lend an ear whene'er I call. It matters not if dreams dissolve Like mists beneath the morning sun, For swiftly as the worlds revolve So swiftly will life's race be run. It matters not if hopes depart, Or life be pressed with toil and care. If love divine shall fill my heart And all be sanctified with prayer. Then let me learn submission sweet In every thought, in each desire, And humbly lay at his dear feet A heart aglow with heavenly fire.

Sometime, when all life's lessons have been learned, And sun and stars forevermore have set, The things which our weak judgment here had spurned, The things o'er which we grieve with lashes wet, Will flash before us out of life's dark night, As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue, And we shall see how all God's plans were right, And how what seemed reproof was love most true. And we shall see how, while we frown and sigh, God's plans go on as best for you and me; How when we called he heeded not our cry, Because his wisdom to the end could see; And even as prudent parents disallow Too much of sweet to crooning baby's hest, So God perhaps is keeping from us now Life's sweetest things because it seemeth best. And if sometimes commingled with life's wine We find the wormwood, and rebel and shrink, Be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine Poured out the potion for our lips to drink; And if some one we love is lying low, Where human kisses can not reach the face, O do not blame the loving Father so, But wear your sorrow with obedient grace, And you will shortly know that lengthened breath Is not the sweetest gift God gives his friend; And that sometimes the sable pall of death Conceals the fairest boon his love can send. If we could push ajar the gates of life, And stand within, and all God's workings see, We could interpret all this doubt and strife, And for each mystery could find a key. But not to-day. Then be content, poor heart, God's plans, like lilies pure and white, unfold; We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart, Time will reveal the calyxes of gold. And if through patient toil we reach the land Where tired feet with sandals loosed may rest, When we shall clearly know and understand, I think that we will say: "God knew the best." —May Louise Riley Smith.

O why and whither? God knows all; I only know that he is good, And that whatever may befall, Or here or there, must be the best that could. For He is merciful as just; And so, by faith correcting sight, I bow before his will, and trust Howe'er they seem he doeth all things right. —John Greenleaf Whittier.

I know not what shall befall me; God hangs a mist o'er my eyes, And thus each step of my onward path He makes new scenes to rise, And every joy he sends me comes As a sweet and glad surprise. I see not a step before me As I tread on another year; But the past is in God's keeping, The future his mercy shall clear, And what looks dark in the distance May brighten as I draw near. For perhaps the dreaded future Is less bitter than I think; The Lord may sweeten the waters Before I stoop to drink, Or, if Marah must be Marah, He will stand beside its brink. It may be he keeps waiting Till the coming of my feet Some gift of such rare blessedness, Some joy so strangely sweet, That my lips shall only tremble With the thanks they cannot speak. O restful, blissful ignorance! 'Tis blessed not to know, It stills me in those mighty arms Which will not let me go, And hushes my soul to rest On the bosom which loves me so! So I go on not knowing; I would not if I might; I would rather walk in the dark with God Than go alone in the light; I would rather walk with him by faith, Than walk alone by sight. My heart shrinks back from trials Which the future may disclose, Yet I never had a sorrow But what the dear Lord chose; So I send the coming tears back With the whispered word, "He knows." —Mary Gardner Brainard.

"Trust is truer than our fears," Runs the legend through the moss; "Gain is not in added years, Nor in death is loss." —John Greenleaf Whittier.

Fret not, poor soul; while doubt and fear Disturb thy breast, The pitying angels, who can see How vain thy wild regret must be, Say, "Trust and Rest." Plan not, nor scheme, but calmly wait; His choice is best; While blind and erring is thy sight His wisdom sees and judges right; So Trust and Rest. Strive not, nor struggle; thy poor might Can never wrest The meanest thing to serve thy will; All power is his alone. Be still, And Trust and Rest. Desire thou not; self-love is strong Within thy breast, And yet he loves thee better still: So let him do his loving will, And Trust and Rest. What dost thou fear? His wisdom reigns Supreme confessed; His power is infinite; his love Thy deepest, fondest dreams above! So Trust and Rest. —Adelaide Anne Procter.

My spirit on thy care, Blest Saviour, I recline; Thou wilt not leave me to despair, For thou art Love divine. In Thee I place my trust, On thee I calmly rest; I know thee good, I know thee just, And count thy choice the best. Whate'er events betide, Thy will they all perform; Safe in thy breast my head I hide, Nor fear the coming storm. Let good or ill befall, It must be good for me; Secure of having thee in all, Of having all in thee. —Henry F. Lyte.

Sometimes a light surprises The Christian while he sings; It is the Lord who rises With healing on his wings. When comforts are declining He grants the soul again A season of clear shining, To cheer it after rain. In holy contemplation We sweetly then pursue The theme of God's salvation, And find it ever new. Set free from present sorrow, We cheerfully can say, Let the unknown to-morrow Bring with it what it may. It can bring with it nothing But He will bear us through; Who gives the lilies clothing, Will clothe his people too. Beneath the spreading heavens No creature but is fed; And He who feeds the ravens Will give his children bread. Though vine nor fig tree neither Their wonted fruit should bear, Though all the fields should wither, Nor flocks nor herds be there; Yet God the same abiding, His praise shall tune my voice; For while in him confiding, I cannot but rejoice. —William Cowper.

Whoever plants a leaf beneath the sod, And waits to see it push away the clod, He trusts in God. Whoever says, when clouds are in the sky, "Be patient, heart; light breaketh by and by," He trusts in God. Whoever sees 'neath winter's field of snow The silent harvest of the future grow, God's power must know. Whoever lies down on his couch to sleep, Content to lock each sense in slumber deep, Knows God will keep.

The child leans on its parent's breast, Leaves there its cares and is at rest; The bird sits singing by his nest, And tells aloud His trust in God, and so is blest 'Neath every cloud. He has no store, he sows no seed; Yet sings aloud, and doth not heed; By flowing stream or grassy mead, He sings to shame Men, who forget, in fear of need, A Father's name. The heart that trusts for ever sings, And feels as light as it had wings; A well of peace within it springs; Come good or ill. Whate'er to-day, to-morrow, brings, It is his will. —Isaac Williams.

Give to the winds thy fears; Hope, and be undismayed; God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears; God shall lift up thy head. Through waves, and clouds, and storms, He gently clears thy way; Wait thou his time, so shall this night Soon end in joyous day. Still heavy is thy heart? Still sink thy spirits down? Cast off the weight, let fear depart, And every care be gone. What though thou rulest not? Yet heaven, and earth, and hell Proclaim, "God sitteth on the throne, And ruleth all things well." Leave to his sovereign sway To choose and to command: So shalt thou, wondering, own his way, How wise, how strong his hand! Far, far above thy thought, His counsel shall appear, When fully he the work hath wrought That caused thy needless fear. —Paul Gerhardt.

I do not know why sin abounds Within this world so fair, Why numerous discordant sounds Destroy the heavenly air— I can't explain this thing, I must Rely on God in simple trust. I do not know why pain and loss Oft fall unto my lot. Why I must bear the heavy cross When I desire it not— I do not know, unless 'tis just To teach my soul in God to trust. I know not why the evil seems Supreme on every hand: Why suffering flows in endless streams I do not understand— Solution comes not to adjust These mysteries. I can but trust. I do not know why grief's dark cloud Bedims my sunny sky, The tear of bitterness allowed To swell within my eye— But, sorrow-stricken to the dust, I will look up to God and trust. —R. F. Mayer.

O foolish heart, be still! And vex thyself no more! Wait thou for God, until He open pleasure's door. Thou knowest not what is good for thee, But God doth know— Let him thy strong reliance be, And rest thee so. He counted all my days, And every joy and tear, Ere I knew how to praise, Or even had learned to fear. Before I him my Father knew He called me child; His help has guarded me all through This weary wild. The least of all my cares Is not to him unknown— He sees and he prepares The pathway for his own; And what his hand assigns to me, That serves my peace; The greatest burden it might be, Yet joys increase. I live no more for earth; Nor seek my full joy here; The world seems little worth When heaven is shining clear. Yet joyfully I go my way So free, so blest! Sweetening my toil from day to day With thoughts of rest. Give me, my Lord, whate'er Will bind my heart to thee; For that I make my prayer, And know thou hearest me! But all that might keep back my soul— Make thee forgot— Though of earth-good it were the whole, O give it not! When sickness, pains, distress, And want doth follow fear, And men their hate express, My sky shall still be clear. Then wait I, Lord, and wait for thee; And I am still, Though mine should unaccomplished be, Do thou thy will! Thou art the strength and stay Of every weary soul; Thy wisdom rules the way Thy pity does control. What ill can happen unto me When thou art near? Thou wilt, O God, my keeper be; I will not fear. —Christian F. Gellert (1715-1769).

I shall not want: in desert wilds Thou spreadst thy table for thy child; While grace in streams, for thirsting souls, Through earth and heaven forever rolls. I shall not want: my darkest night Thy lovely smile shall fill with light; While promises around me bloom, And cheer me with divine perfume. I shall not want: thy righteousness My soul shall clothe with glorious dress; My blood-washed robe shall be more fair Than garments kings or angels wear. I shall not want: whate'er is good Of daily bread or angels' food Shall to my Father's child be sure, So long as earth and heaven endure. —Charles F. Deems.

O Lord! how happy should we be If we could leave our cares to thee; If we from self could rest, And feel at heart that One above, In perfect wisdom, perfect love, Is working for the best. For when we kneel and cast our care Upon our God, in humble prayer, With strengthened souls we rise; Sure that our Father, who is nigh To hear the ravens when they cry, Will hear his children's cries. How far from this our daily life; How oft disturbed by anxious strife, By sudden wild alarm! O could we but relinquish all Our earthly props and simply fall On thine Almighty arms! We cannot trust him as we should, So chafes weak nature's restless mood To cast its peace away; But birds and flowers around us preach All, all, the present evil teach, Sufficient for the day. O may these anxious hearts of ours The lesson learn from birds and flowers, And learn from self to cease, Leave all things to our Father's will, And, in his mercy trusting, still Find in each trial peace. —Joseph Anstice.

Lord, I delight in thee, And on thy care depend; To thee in every trouble flee, My best, my only Friend. When nature's streams are dried Thy fullness is the same; With this will I be satisfied, And glory in thy name. Who made my heaven secure Will here all good provide; While Christ is rich can I be poor? What can I want beside? I cast my care on thee; I triumph and adore; Henceforth my great concern shall be To love and please thee more. —John Ryland.

Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, planned; Each drop that fills my daily cup; thy hand Prescribes for ills none else can understand. All, all is known to thee. Be trustful, be steadfast, whatever betide thee, Only one thing do thou ask of the Lord— Grace to go forward wherever he guide thee, Simply believing the truth of his word. Whatsoe'er our lot may be, Calmly in this thought we'll rest Could we see as thou dost see We should choose it as the best. —Eliza Cleghorn Gaskell.

O for the peace of a perfect trust, My loving God, in thee; Unwavering faith, that never doubts, Thou choosest best for me. Best, though my plans be all upset; Best, though the way be rough; Best, though my earthly store be scant; In thee I have enough. Best, though my health and strength be gone, Though weary days be mine, Shut out from much that others have; Not my will, Lord, but thine! And even though disappointments come, They, too, are best for me— To wean me from this changing world And lead me nearer thee. O for the peace of a perfect trust That looks away from all; That sees thy hand in everything, In great events or small; That hears thy voice—a Father's voice— Directing for the best; O for the peace of a perfect trust, A heart with thee at rest!

I cannot always see the way that leads To heights above; I sometimes quite forget that he leads on With hands of love; But yet I know the path must lead me to Immanuel's land, And when I reach life's summit I shall know And understand. I cannot always trace the onward course My ship must take, But, looking backward, I behold afar Its shining wake Illumined with God's light of love; and so I onward go, In perfect trust that he who holds the helm The course must know. I cannot always see the plan on which He builds my life; For oft the sound of hammers, blow on blow, The noise of strife, Confuse me till I quite forget he knows And oversees, And that in all details with his good plan My life agrees. I cannot always know and understand The Master's rule; I cannot always do the tasks he gives In life's hard school; But I am learning, with his help, to solve Them one by one, And, when I cannot understand, to say, "Thy will be done." —Gertrude Benedict Custis.

The clouds which rise with thunder slake Our thirsty souls with rain; The blow most dreaded falls to break From off our limbs a chain; And wrongs of man to man but make The love of God more plain. As through the shadowy lens of even The eye looks farthest into heaven— On gleams of star and depths of blue The glaring sunshine never knew. —John Greenleaf Whittier.

Still will we trust, though earth seem dark and dreary, And the heart faint beneath his chastening rod; Though rough and steep our pathway, worn and weary, Still will we trust in God. Our eyes see dimly till by faith anointed, And our blind choosing brings us grief and pain; Through him alone who hath our way appointed, We find our peace again. Choose for us, God! nor let our weak preferring Cheat our poor souls of good thou hast designed; Choose for us, God! thy wisdom is unerring, And we are fools and blind. Let us press on in patient self-denial, Accept the hardship, shrink not from the loss; Our portion lies beyond the hour of trial, Our crown beyond the cross. —William H. Burleigh.

With strength of righteous purpose in the heart What cause to fear for consequence of deed? God guideth then, not we; nor do we need To care for aught but that we play our part. Most simple trust is often highest art. The issue we would fly may be a seed Ordained by God to bear our souls a meed Of peace that no self-judging could impart. "All things work good for him who trusteth God!" Doth God not love us with a longing love To make us happy, and hath he not sight From end to end of our short earthly road? This, Lord, I hold—aye, know that thou wouldst move The world to lead one trusting soul aright. —Edward Harding.

How many chatterers of a creed Think doubt the gravest sin, Unmindful of her double birth— For worry is her twin. Ah! Christian atheism seems The most insulting kind, For, though the tongue says, God is love, The heart is deaf and blind. How he who marks the sparrow's fall Must be aggrieved to see These loud lip-champions manifest Such infidelity! Each fretful line upon their brow, Dug by the plow of care, Is treason to their pledge of faith And satire on their prayer. O just to hold, without one fear, The strong, warm Hand above, With orthodoxy of the heart— The childlike creed of love! None such can be a heretic; Nay, only he forsooth Who lives the falsity of doubt, But prates the cant of truth. —Frederic Lawrence Knowles.

Worry and Fret were two little men That knocked at my door again and again. "O pray let us in, but to tarry a night, And we will be off with the dawning of light." At last, moved to pity, I opened the door To shelter these travelers, hungry and poor; But when on the morrow I bade them "Adieu," They said, quite unmoved, "We'll tarry with you." And, deaf to entreaty and callous to threat, These troublesome guests abide with me yet.

Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed trust my spirit clings: I know that God is good! —John Greenleaf Whittier.

Father, hold thou my hand; The way is steep; I cannot see the path my feet must keep, I cannot tell, so dark the tangled way, Where next to step. O stay; Come close; take both my hands in thine; Make thy way mine! Lead me. I may not stay; I must move on; but oh, the way! I must be brave and go, Step forward in the dark, nor know If I shall reach the goal at all— If I shall fall. Take thou my hand. Take it! Thou knowest best How I should go, and all the rest I cannot, cannot see: Lead me: I hold my hands to thee; I own no will but thine; Make thy way mine!

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 wheresoe'er 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. —John Greenleaf Whittier.

What most you wish and long for Might only bring you pain; You cannot see the future, God's purpose to explain. So trust, faint heart, thy Master! He doeth all things well, He loveth more than heart can guess, And more than tongue can tell.

Better trust all and be deceived, And weep that trust and that deceiving, Than doubt one heart that, if believed, Had blest one's life with true believing. Oh, in this mocking world too fast The doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth; Better be cheated to the last Than lose the blessed hope of truth. —Frances Anne Kemble.

Be patient; keep thy life-work Well in hand; Be trustful where thou canst not Understand; Thy lot, whate'er it be, is Wisely planned; Whate'er its mysteries, God holds the key; Thou well canst trust him, and bide patiently.

There is never a day so dreary But God can make it bright; And unto the soul that trusts him He giveth songs in the night. There is never a path so hidden But God will show the way, If we seek the Spirit's guidance And patiently watch and pray.

Build a little fence of trust Around to-day; Fill the space with loving deeds, And therein stay. Look not through the sheltering bars Upon to-morrow; God will help thee bear what comes Of joy or sorrow. —Mary Frances Butts.

On God for all events depend; You cannot want when God's your friend. Weigh well your part and do your best; Leave to your Maker all the rest. —Cotton.

Then, O my soul, be ne'er afraid; On him who thee and all things made With calm reliance rest; Whate'er may come, where'er we go, Our Father in the heavens must know In all things what is best. —Paul Fleming.

If the wren can cling To a spray a-swing In the mad May wind, and sing and sing As if she'd burst for joy— Why cannot I Contented lie In his quiet arms, beneath his sky, Unmoved by life's annoy. —Robert Haven Schauffler.

Be like the bird that, halting in her flight Awhile on boughs too slight, Feels them give way beneath her and yet sings— Knowing that she hath wings. —Victor Hugo.

Let not your heart be troubled, Jesus said; Let not your heart be troubled or afraid. My peace into your hands I freely give; Trust in your God, and in his precepts live.

Thunder, lightning, fire and rain, Poverty, sorrow, loss and gain, Death and heaven, and earth and hell, For us must work together well.

With patient course thy path of duty run God nothing does, or suffers to be done, But thou wouldst do the same if thou couldst see The end of all events as well as he.

I welcome all thy sovereign will, For all that will is love; And when I know not what thou dost, I wait the light above.