"THE FATHER HIMSELF LOVETH YOU."
Be still, my soul, Jehovah loveth thee!
Fret not, nor murmur at thy weary lot;
Though dark and lone thy journey seems to be,
Be sure that thou art ne'er by Him forgot:
He ever loves; then trust Him, trust Him still;
Let all thy care be this—the doing of his will.
Thy hand in his, like fondest, happiest child,
Place thou, nor draw it for a moment thence;
Walk thou with Him, a Father reconciled,
Till in his own good time He calls thee hence.
Walk with him now: so shall thy way be bright,
And all thy soul be filled with his most glorious
light.
Take courage, faint not, though the foe be strong;
Christ is thy strength!
He fighteth on thy side.
Swift be thy race; remember 'tis not long,
The goal is near; the prize He will provide.
And then from earthly toil thou restest ever,
Never again to toil, or fight, or fear—oh never!
He comes, with his reward; 'tis just at hand;
He comes in glory to his promised throne;
My soul rejoice! ere long thy feet shall stand
Within the City of the blessed One—
Thy perils past, thy heritage secure,
Thy tears all wiped away, thy joy forever sure.
—Horatius Bonar.