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Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea;
But calm content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to thee.
In vain by reason and by rule,
We try to bend the will;
For none, but in the Saviour's school,
Can learn the heav'nly skill.
Since at his feet my soul has sat,
His gracious words to hear;
Contented with my present state,
I cast, on him, my care.
Art thou a sinner, soul? he said,
Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weighed
With everlasting pain!
If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine;
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.
'Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things well:
Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with me to dwell.
In life my grace shall strength supply,
Proportioned to thy day;
At death thou still shalt find me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away.
Thus I who once my wretched days,
In vain repinings spent;
Taught in my Saviour's school of grace,
Have learned to be content.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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Phil 4:11;
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echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
