Our yet unfinished story Is tending all to this: To God the greatest glory, To us the greatest bliss. If all things work together For ends so grand and blest, What need to wonder whether Each in itself is best! If some things were omitted, Or altered as we would, The whole might be unfitted To work for perfect good. Our plans may be disjointed, But we may calmly rest; What God has once appointed, Is better than our best. We cannot see before us, But our all-seeing Friend Is always watching o'er us, And knows the very end. What though we seem to stumble? He will not let us fall; And learning to be humble Is not lost time at all. What though we fondly reckoned A smoother way to go Than where his hand hath beckoned? It will be better so. What only seemed a barrier A stepping-stone shall be; Our God is no long tarrier, A present help is he. And when amid our blindness His disappointments fall, We trust his loving-kindness Whose wisdom sends them all; The discord that involveth Some startling change of key, The Master's hand revolveth In richest harmony. Then tremble not, and shrink not, When disappointment nears; Be trustful still, and think not To realize all fears. While we are meekly kneeling We shall behold her rise, Our Father's love revealing, An angel in disguise. --Frances Ridley Havergal. GOD'S CARE Not a brooklet floweth Onward to the sea, Not a sunbeam gloweth On its bosom free, Not a seed unfoldeth To the glorious air, But our Father holdeth It within his care. Not a floweret fadeth, Not a star grows dim, Not a cloud o'ershadeth, But 'tis marked by him. Dream not that thy gladness God doth fail to see; Think not in thy sadness He forgetteth thee. Not a tie is broken, Not a hope laid low, Not a farewell spoken, But our God doth know. Every hair is numbered, Every tear is weighed In the changeless balance Wisest Love has made. Power eternal resteth In his changeless hand; Love immortal hasteth Swift at his command, Faith can firmly trust him In the darkest hour, For the keys she holdeth To his love and power. "I WILL ABIDE IN THINE HOUSE" Among so many can he care? Can special love be everywhere? A myriad homes--a myriad ways-- And God's eye over every place? _Over_; but _in_? The world is full; A grand omnipotence must rule; But is there life that doth abide With mine own, loving, side by side? So many, and so wide abroad; Can any heart have all of God? From the great spaces vague and dim, May one small household gather him?