610. L. M. Miss Dodd. "Thy will be done."

1 My Father, grant thy presence nigh
To bear aloft my sinking soul,
When sorrow o'er my pathway here
In widely whelming waves doth roll.
O, teach mine else unguarded heart,
The clouds of gloomy doubt to shun,
To bow unto thy chastening hand,
And meekly say "Thy will be done."

2 Though dark to us thy ways may seem,
Thy needful chastisements severe;
Thou dost not willingly afflict,
Nor grieve thy erring children here.
O, teach my heart to lean on thee,
To faith and resignation won,
To see thy love in all its ways,
And humbly say, "Thy will be done."