Bear the bur­den of the pre­sent,
Let the mor­row bear its own;
If the morn­ing sky be plea­sant,
Why the com­ing night be­moan?

If the dark­ened hea­vens low­er,
Wrap thy cloak around thy form;
Though the tem­pest rise in pow­er,
God is migh­ti­er than the storm.

Steadfast faith and hope un­shak­en
Animate the trust­ing breast;
Step by step the jour­ney’s tak­en
Nearer to the land of rest.

All un­seen, the Mas­ter walk­eth
By the toil­ing ser­vant’s side:
Comfort in the words He speak­eth,
While His hands up­hold and guide.

Grief, nor pain, nor any so­rrow
Rends thy breast to Him un­known;
He today and He to­mor­row
Grace suf­fi­cient gives His own.

Holy striv­ings nerve and strength­en,
Long en­dur­ance wins the crown:
When the ev­en­ing sha­dows length­en,
Thou shalt lay the bur­den down.