Be nothing altered of all God hath done!
I would not now have back these weary years
To spend them other than I have, thou tears
Alone could win them. What God hath begun
I pray to Him to finish. When we shun
Those ills our sin-sick heart for ever fears,
And choose the good, or that which good appears,
Were God as we, how soon our course were run!
Who knows life's chart entire, knows best to steer
Our erring craft across its fitful sea.
Little our progress while the skies are clear;
But when God's storm breaks forth tumultuously,
Each fearful gust brings us to land more near,
And to that haven where our souls would be.