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L. M.


The Patient Waiting upon God.

Wait on the Lord, ye heirs of hope,

And let His word support your souls;

Well can He bear your courage up,

And all your foes and fears control.

He waits His own well-chosen hour

The intended mercy to display;

And His paternal pities move,

While wisdom dictates the delay.

Blest are the humble souls that wait

With sweet submission to His will;

Harmonious all their passions move,

And in the midst of storms are still;—

Still, till their Father’s well-known voice

Wakens their silence into songs;

Then earth grows vocal with His praise,

And heaven the grateful shout prolongs.

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