THE WANDERER'S PRAYER

Publishing Committee · Rochester, N.Y. · Dec 19, 1854

THE WANDERER'S PRAYER.

My God, my Father, while I stray Far from my home on life's rough way, O, teach me from my heart to say, "Thy will, my God, be done."

Though dark my path, and sad my lot, Let me be still and murmur not; And breathe the prayer divinely taught, "Thy will, my God, be done."

What though in lonely grief I sigh, For friends beloved no longer nigh, Submissive still would I reply, "Thy will, my God, be done."

If thou should'st call me to resign, What most I prize, it ne'er was mine, I only yield thee what was thine. "Thy will, my God, be done."

Should pining sickness waste away, My life in premature decay— In life or death, teach me to say, "Thy will, my God, be done."

Renew my will from day to day, Blend it with thine and take away Whate'er now makes it hard to say, "Thy will, my God, be done." [Selected.]