The Parents' Review

A Monthly Magazine of Home-Training and Culture

Edited by Charlotte Mason.

"Education is an atmosphere, a discipline, a life."

Volume 4, 1893/94, pgs. 57-58

      Master, Thou will'st me poor--
             Haughty and rich am I;
      In self-dependence rich,
             Presuming, hard, and high:
Faith, looking on the coming years, doth see
Dark faults, sore failures, let to humble me.
                  Thy will be done!

      A mourner must I be:
             And holy messengers
      Oft have Thy presence left,
             To bring me blessed tears:
Too soon they fail, and sin's hot breath sweeps by:
Then wilt Thou take the spot and show it me,
Till, weeping, fain I turn to hide in Thee:
                  Thy will be done!

      Meek wouldst Thou have Thy child:
             How little can I bear!
      How seldom wait for Thee,
             Quiet, within Thy care!
Though through provokings, teach me to endure,
Bid errors make me of myself less sure:
                  Thy will be done!

      A hung'ring, thirsting one
             Must Thy disciple be;
      And I so full! grown fat
             On Thy gifts, leaving Thee!
But Thou wilt teach me want, or take away
All lesser food till Thou my only stay:
                  Thy will be done!

      Merciful as Thou art:
             Oh, how hard judgments rise!
      Oh, this censorious tongue,
             Evil-discerning eyes!
Yet His sweet mercy will my King impart,
If by no other way, e'en through the smart
Of pity withheld in my extremities:
                  Thy will be done!

      Pure, e'en in Thy pure eyes:
             Single and free from guile;
      Oh, when shall these vain thoughts
             Pure rising, meet Thy smile?
E'en this through Thee is mine: though it should be
That, first, through purging fires, Thou go with me:
                  Thy will be done!

      Ruled by the Prince of Peace:
             How far from this my state--
      Oft striving for my own,
             Exacting, harsh, irate.
No peace is found in me; but Thou wilt come
And make this chafing bosom Thy sweet home:
                  Thy will be done!

      Thus I abide His time;
             For hath the King not sworn
      That all these shall be mine,
             And will not He perform?
If tender ways shall serve, such wilt Thou use;
But smite, if need be; I would not refuse:
                  Thy will be done!

Proofread by LNL, July, 2023