Father, to Thee we
Look in all our sorrow,
Thou art the fountain
Whence our healing flows;
Dark though the night,
Joy cometh with the morrow;
Safely they rest who
On Thy love repose.

When fond hopes fail
And skies are dark before us,
When the vain cares that
Vex our lives increase,
Comes with its calm
The thought that Thou art o’er us,
And we grow quiet,
Folded in Thy peace.

Naught shall affright us,
On Thy goodness leaning;
Low in the heart faith
Singeth still her song;
Chastened by pain
We learn life’s deeper meaning,
And in our weakness
Thou dost make us strong.

Patient, O heart, though
Heavy be Thy sorrows;
Be not cast down,
Disquieted in vain;
Yet shalt thou praise Him,
When these darkened furrows,
Where now He plougheth,
Wave with golden grain.