He Knows

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Aug 14, 1913

I KNOW not what will befall me, God hangs a mist o'er my eyes, And o'er each step of my onward way He makes new scenes to rise; So every joy he sends me Comes as a sweet and glad surprise.

I see not a step before me As I tread the days of the year; The past is still in God's keeping, The future his mercy may clear, And what looks dark in the distance May brighten as I draw near.

For perhaps the dreaded future Is less bitter than I think; The Lord may sweeten the water Before I stoop to drink; Or if Marah must be Marah, He will stand beside the brink.

It may be he has waiting For the coming of my feet Some gift of such rare blessedness, Some joys so strangely sweet, That my lips can only tremble With the thanks I cannot speak.

Ah, restful, blissful ignorance! 'Tis blessed not to know; It keeps me quiet in the arms That will not let me go, And hushes my soul to rest On the bosom that loves me so.

So I go on not knowing, I would not if I might; I'd rather walk in the dark with God Than walk alone in the light: I would rather walk with him by faith Than walk alone by sight.

My heart shrinks back from trials Which the future may disclose, Yet I never had a sorrow But what the dear Lord chose. So I hush my heart's wild beating With the whispered words, “He knows.”

— Selected.