‘Be still—be still,’ though all should seem
Like visions of a troubled dream;
‘Be still—be still,’ each murmuring thought,
For God is Love,—and changes not.
The hand that moves the shifting scene,
Plans what shall be—as what has been:
That hand is His—it holds thee still;
Calmly submit, and trust His will.
For He, the High and Holy One,
Who sits on Heaven’s Eternal Throne,
All things ordains for good to those
Whom from eternity He chose.
‘Be still’—nor doubt His faithful love,
Though He thy faith and patience prove;
He, while he tries thee, through the fire,
Will give the strength thou dost require.
Hot though the flame, it shall not burn,
But blessings purer thee return;
Oh! bow thee lowly to His will,
And bid each fearful thought be still.
‘Be still’—for in ‘a little while,’
Thou shalt upon past sorrows smile;
And each heart-aching pang shall cease
In endless joy—in endless peace.
‘Be still’—thy cares are measured all
By Him who notes the sparrow’s fall;
There’s not a grief which rends thy breast,
But He can chase, or calm to rest.
Trust all to Him—thine every care,
Each burden cast on Him in prayer;
He will give peace, calm every storm,
And all things for His own perform.