March 16

THOU sayest, "Fit me, fashion me for Thee."

Stretch forth thine empty hands, and be thou still;

O restless soul, thou dost but hinder Me

By valiant purpose and by steadfast will,

Behold the summer flowers beneath the sun,

In stillness His great glory they behold;

And sweetly thus His mighty work is done,

And resting in His gladness they unfold.

So are the sweetness and the joy divine

Thine, O beloved, and the work is Mine.

GERHARDT

TER-

STREGEN,

trans. by

Frances

Bevan

OUR DISCONTENT