THOU SWEET, BELOVED WILL OF GOD Thou sweet, beloved will of God, My anchor ground, my fortress hill, My spirit's silent, fair abode, In thee I hide me and am still. O Will, that willest good alone, Lead thou the way, thou guidest best; A little child, I follow on, And, trusting, lean upon thy breast. Thy beautiful sweet will, my God, Holds fast in its sublime embrace My captive will, a gladsome bird, Prisoned in such a realm of grace. Within this place of certain good Love evermore expands her wings, Or, nestling in thy perfect choice, Abides content with what it brings. Oh lightest burden, sweetest yoke! It lifts, it bears my happy soul, It giveth wings to this poor heart; My freedom is thy grand control. Upon God's will I lay me down, As child upon its mother's breast; No silken couch, nor softest bed, Could ever give me such deep rest. Thy wonderful grand will, my God, With triumph now I make it mine; And faith shall cry a joyous Yes! To every dear command of thine. AS IT WAS TO BE The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare! The spray of the tempest is white in air; The winds are out with the waves at play, And I shall not tempt the sea to-day. The trail is narrow, the wood is dim, The panther clings to the arching limb; And the lion's whelps are abroad at play, And I shall not join in the chase to-day. But the ship sailed safely over the sea, And the hunters came from the chase in glee; And the town that was builded upon a rock Was swallowed up in the earthquake's shock. --Francis Bret Harte. USEFUL ACCORDING TO GOD'S WILL Let me not die before I've done for thee My earthly work, whatever it may be; Call me not hence with mission unfulfilled; Let me not leave my space of ground untilled; Impress this truth upon me, that not one Can do my portion that I leave undone. Then give me strength all faithfully to toil, Converting barren earth to fruitful soil. I long to be an instrument of thine For gathering worshipers into thy shrine: To be the means one human soul to save From the dark terrors of a hopeless grave. Yet most I want a spirit of content To work where'er thou'lt wish my labor spent, Whether at home or in a stranger's clime, In days of joy or sorrow's sterner time; I want a spirit passive to be still, And by thy power to do thy holy will. And when the prayer unto my lips doth rise, "Before a new home doth my soul surprise, Let me accomplish _some great work_ for thee," Subdue it, Lord; let my petition be, "O make me useful in this world of thine, In ways according to thy will, not mine." AS THOU WILT