1086    C.M.     A. Steele
“Thy will be done.” Matt. 6. 10; Luke 22. 42

1 Peace, my complaining, doubting heart,
  Ye busy cares, be still;
  Adore the just, the sovereign Lord,
  Nor murmur at his will.

2 Unerring wisdom guides his hand;
  Nor dares my guilty fear,
  Amid the sharpest pains I feel,
  Pronounce his hand severe.

3 Let me reflect, with humble awe,
  Whene’er my heart complains,
  Compared with what my sins deserve,
  How easy are my pains!

4 Yes, Lord, I own thy sovereign hand,
  Thou just, and wise, and kind;
  Be every anxious thought suppressed,
  And all my soul resigned.

5 But O, indulge this only wish,
  This boon I must implore:
  Assure my soul that thou art mine,
  My God, I ask no more.