252. L. M. *Bowring. Resignation.

1 O let my trembling soul be still,
While darkness veils this mortal eye,
And wait Thy wise and holy will,
Though wrapped in fears and mystery:
I cannot, Lord, Thy purpose see;
Yet all is well since ruled by Thee!

2 When, mounted on Thy clouded car,
Thou send'st Thy darker spirits down,
I can discern Thy light afar,
Thy light sweet beaming through their frown;
And, should I faint a moment, then
I think of Thee, and smile again.

3 So, trusting in Thy love, I tread
The narrow path of duty on;
What though some cherished joys are fled?
What though some flattering dreams are gone?
Yet purer, nobler joys remain,
And peace is won through conquered pain.