Thou sweet, belovèd will of God,
My anchor ground, my fortress hill,
My spirit’s silent, fair abode,
In thee I hide me and am still.

O will, that willest good alone,
Lead thou the way, thou guidest best;
A little child, I follow on,
And, trusting, lean upon thy breast.

Thy beau­ti­ful, sweet will, my God,
Holds fast in its sublime embrace
My captive will, a gladsome bird,
Prisoned in such a realm of grace.

Within this place of certain good,
Love ev­er­more expands her wings,
Or, nestling in thy perfect choice,
Abides content with what it brings.

O lightest bur­den, sweetest yoke!
It lifts, it bears my happy soul,
It giveth wings to this poor heart,
My freedom is thy grand control.

Upon God’s will I lay me down,
As child upon its mother’s breast;
No silken couch, nor softest bed,
Could ever give me such deep rest.

Thy wonderful grand will, my God,
With triumph now I make it mine;
And faith shall cry a joyous Yes!
To every dear command of thine.