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LOVING SUBMISSION

I may not understand just why the clouds obscure the sun,
But I can trust him still, and feebly say, “Thy will be done.”
I know not why each door of service he sees fit to close;
But I rejoice to find my will would ne’er his way oppose.
I can but wonder why it seemeth to my Father best,
To loosen from its resting place upon my throbbing breast,
The priceless jewel fastened there by his own hand—but then,
I joy to feel the mother-heart can still respond, Amen!

I do not always clearly see the lesson I should learn,
But hour by hour I’ll strive to let the hallowed incense burn.
I know not why the sweet must turn to bitter in the cup;
But still I press it to my lips, and through my tears look up
To him who is “too wise to err, too good to be unkind,”
Assured that when the cup is drained, a blessing there I’ll find.

* * *

Press hard, then, Master Workman, and refrain not, if I weep—
The marble’s fairest beauty grows beneath the chiseling deep.
Yea, Lord, let skies be overcast, as seemeth best to thee;
Take from my arms the dearest thing Thy love hath given me;
Let sweet or bitter fill my cup, according to thy will;
I’ll closer clasp thy hand in mine, and in the flame hold still;
And thus, although Thou slay me, I will praise thee night and day,
I’ll lay each burden at thy feet, and “bear a song away.”

—G. W. Seibert.

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— March 1, 1909 —