Within the mad­den­ing maze of things,
When tossed by storm and flood,
To one fixed trust my spi­rit clings;
I know that God is good!

No of­fer­ing of my own I have,
Nor works my faith to prove;
I can but give the gifts He gave,
And plead His love for love.

I know not where His is­lands lift
Their frond­ed palms in air;
I on­ly know I can­not drift
Beyond His love and care.

And so beside the si­lent sea
I wait the muf­fled oar;
No harm from Him can come to me
On ocean or on shore.

I know not what the fu­ture hath
Of marvel or sur­prise,
Assured alone that life and death
His mer­cy un­der­lies.