O Lord, my best desire fulfill,
And help me to resign
Life, health and comfort to Thy will,
And make Thy pleasure mine.
Why should I shrink at Thy command,
Whose love forbids my fears?
Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my tears?
No; let me rather freely yield
What most I prize to Thee,
Who never hast a good withheld,
Or wilt withhold from me.
Thy favor all my journey through
Thou art engaged to grant;
What else I want, or think I do,
’Tis better still to want.
Wisdom and mercy guide my way;
Shall I resist them both
A poor, blind creature of a day
And crushed before the moth?
But ah! My inmost spirit cries,
Still bind me to Thy sway,
Else the next cloud that veils my skies
Drives all these thoughts away.
W. Cowper