If I could feel my hand, dear Lord, in Thine,
And surely know
That I was walking in the light divine
Through weal or woe;
If I could hear Thy voice in accents sweet
But plainly say,
To guide my groping, wandering feet,
'This is the way,'
I would so gladly walk therein, but now
I cannot see.
Oh, give me, Lord, the faith to humbly bow
And trust in Thee!
There is no faith in seeing. Were we led
Like children here,
And lifted over rock and river-bed,
No care, no fear,
We should be useless in the busy throng
Life's work undone;
Lord, make us brave and earnest, true and strong,
Till heaven is won.