I bow before Thy will, O God!
And all Thy ways adore. Oh, may I daily, hourly seek
To please Thee more and more!

Thy will! it was the glorious end
Of Jesus' toil and tears;
Thy will, the passion of His heart
Those three and thirty years.

And He hath breathed within my soul
A tender love to Thee;
A love-to lose my will in Thine,
And by that loss be free.

I have no cares, O blessed Lord,
For all my cares are Thine;
I live in triumph too, for Thou
Hast made Thy triumphs mine.

And when it seems no chance nor change
From grief can set me free,
Hope finds its strength in helplessness,
And, patient, waits on Thee.

Man's weakness, waiting upon God,
Its end can never miss;
For men on earth no work can do
More angel-like than this.

Lead on, lead on triumphantly,
O blessed Lord-lead on!
Faith's pilgrim sons behind Thee seek
The road that Thou hast gone.

He always wins who sides with God;
To him no chance is lost;
God's will is sweetest to him when
It triumphs at his cost.

Ill that God blesses is our good,
And unblest good is ill;
And all is right that seems most wrong,
If it be His sweet will.