I worship Thee, sweet will of God!
And all Thy ways adore,
And ev­ery day I live I seem
To love Thee more and more.

Thou wert the end, the bless­èd rule
Of Je­sus’ toils and tears;
Thou wert the pas­sion of His heart
Those three and thir­ty years.

And He hath breathed in­to my soul
A spe­cial love of Thee,
A love to lose my will in His,
And by that loss be free.

I love to see Thee bring to naught
The plans of wi­ly men;
When sim­ple hearts out­wit the wise,
Oh, Thou art love­li­est then!

The head­strong world, it press­es hard
Upon the Church full oft,
And then how ea­si­ly Thou turn’st
The hard ways in­to soft.

I love to kiss each print where Thou
Hast set Thine un­seen feet;
I can­not fear Thee, bless­èd Will!
Thine em­pire is so sweet.

When ob­sta­cles and tri­als seem
Like pri­son walls to be,
I do the lit­tle I can do,
And leave the rest to Thee.

I know not what it is to doubt,
My heart is ev­er gay;
I run no risk, for come what will,
Thou al­ways hast Thy way.

I have no cares, O bless­èd Will!
For all my cares are Thine:
I live in tri­umph, Lord! for Thou
Hast made Thy tri­umphs mine.

And when it seems no chance or change
From grief can set me free,
Hope finds its strength in help­less­ness,
And gai­ly waits on Thee.

Man’s weak­ness, wait­ing up­on God,
Its end can ne­ver miss,
For men on earth no work can do
More an­gel-like than this.

Ride on, ride on, tri­um­phant­ly,
Thou glo­ri­ous Will! ride on;
Faith’s pil­grim sons be­hind Thee take
The road that Thou hast gone.

He al­ways wins who sides with God,
To him no chance is lost;
God’s will is sweet­est to him when
It triu­mphs at his cost.

Ill that He bless­es is our good,
And un­blest good is ill;
And all is right that seems most wrong,
If it be His sweet Will!