WHATE’ER may be my future lot,
O Lord, I cannot tell;
But since thou, Father, changest not,
All must with me be well.
Should sunny scenes my path surround,
I’d not be puffed up;
And if my sorrows should abound,
I’d drink each bitter cup.
I reckon on thy love and grace
To cheer me day by day;
And as I run the heav’nly race,
Thy pow’r in me display.
And be it thus the little while
I may remain below;
And let me have thy constant smile,
In grace and knowledge grow.
And when my earthly path is o’er,
I’ll dwell with thee above,
Where, with thy saints, for evermore,
I’ll sing thy ceaseless love.