There is no sense, as I can see, In mortals such as you and me A-faulting nature's wise intents And locking horns with Providence. It is no use to grumble and complain; It's just as cheap and easy to rejoice; When God sorts out the weather and sends rain-- Why, rain's my choice. --James Whitcomb Riley. THY WILL Not in dumb resignation We lift our hands on high; Not like the nerveless fatalist, Content to do and die. Our faith springs like the eagle Who soars to meet the sun, And cries, exulting, unto thee, "O Lord, thy will be done!" Thy will! It bids the weak be strong; It bids the strong be just; No lip to fawn, no hand to beg, No brow to seek the dust. Wherever man oppresses man, Beneath the liberal sun, O Lord, be there! Thine arm make bare! Thy righteous will be done! --John Hay. AS GOD WILL All goeth but God's will! The fairest garden flower Fades after its brief hour Of brightness. Still, This is but God's good will. All goeth but God's will! The brightest, dearest day Doth swiftly pass away, And darkest night Succeeds the vision bright. But still strong-hearted be, Yea, though the night be drear; How sad and long soe'er Its gloom may be, This darkness, too, shall flee. Weep not yon grave beside! Dear friend, he is not gone; God's angel soon this stone Shall roll aside. Yea, death shall not abide! Earth's anguish, too, shall go, O then be strong, my soul! When sorrows o'er thee roll Be still, and know 'Tis God's will worketh so. Dear Lord and God, incline Thine ear unto my call! O grant me that in all, This will of mine May still be one with thine! Teach me to answer still, Whate'er my lot may be, To all thou sendest me, Of good or ill; "All goeth as God will." --Alice Williams. THE SHADOW OF THE GREAT ROCK Sweet is the solace of thy love, My heavenly Friend, to me, While through the hidden way of faith I journey home with thee, Learning by quiet thankfulness As a dear child to be. Though from the shadow of thy peace My feet would often stray, Thy mercy follows all my steps, And will not turn away; Yea, thou wilt comfort me at last As none beneath thee may. No other comforter I need If thou, O Lord, be mine; Thy rod will bring my spirit low, Thy fire my heart refine, And cause me pain that none may feel By other love than thine. Then in the secret of my soul, Though hosts my peace invade, Though through a waste and weary land My lonely way be made, Thou, even thou, wilt comfort me; I need not be afraid.