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A Good Poem

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Though Thou hast called me to resign

What most I prized, it ne'er was mine;

I have but yielded what was Thine-

" Thy Will be done. "

Should grief or sickness waste away

My life in premature decay,

My Father, still I strive to say,

" Thy Will be done. "

Let but my fainting heart be blest

With Thy sweet Spirit for its' Guest;

My God to Thee I leave the rest-

" Thy Will be done. "

Renew my will from day to day;

Blend it with Thine and take away

All that now makes it hard to say,

" Thy will be done. "

(Charlotte Elliot, 1789-1871)

Blessings to you and yours!

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