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“THY WILL BE DONE!”

My Lord, thy will not mine be done:
Whatever path thy love shall choose for me,
Through desert sands, or if beside the sea,—
Thy will be done!

Oh, may thy will in me be done!
Should “harvest” labor be for me thy will,
Or if I may but suffer and be still,—
Thy will be done!

My Father, let thy will be done:
If sweet the Cup thou pourest for me to drink,
I’ll praise thee; but, if bitter, I’ll not shrink,—
Thy will be done!

Forever may thy will be done:
I would not choose, I leave it all with thee,—
The pilgrimage, if short or long it be,—
Thy will be done!
—G. W. Seibert

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— May 1, 1902 —