902
L. M. 6 lines.
Thy footsteps are not known.
Psalm 77:19.
Bowring.
O let my trembling soul be still, While darkness vails this mortal eye, And wait thy wise, thy holy will, Wrapped yet in fears and mystery; I can not, Lord, thy purpose see; Yet all is well, since ruled by thee. | 2 So trusting in thy love, I tread The narrow path of duty on; What though some cherished joys are fled? What though some flattering dreams are gone? Yet purer, nobler joys remain, And peace is won through conquered pain. | |