Whate’er Is Best by Inita S. Chilson

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Nov 11, 1909

Whate’er Is Best

By Inita S. Chilson

INITA S. CHILSON

At early morn, ere a tint of rose Falls on the fragrant, dew-bathed flowers, At early morn, ere the day unfolds Its joy- or sorrow-laden hours, I come into Thy presence sweet, And this my one request: Lord, in thy wisdom infinite, Send me this day whate’er is best; Whate’er is best, or joy or pain, I know not what to ask; O Master mine! I pray that thou Wilt set for me my daily task.

When earth and sea, with golden light Are burnished at the midday hour, When cares of day have driven away Some of the morning’s calm and power, I haste to the shade of thy sheltering wing, And sweet is the noontide rest. With willing heart I gladly sing: Dear Lord, still send whate’er is best; Whate’er is best, or gain or loss, I care not, since ’tis thy behest; Safe ’neath the shelter of the cross, I only know thy will is best.

When eventide, with silver veil, Enfolds the earth all hushed in sleep, When silence reigns o’er hill and dale, And darkness broods above the deep; So grateful for the hour of prayer, I welcome thee, my heavenly Guest, And give thee thanks that through the day Thou sentest me whate’er was best: Come life or death, thou knowest best, I lay me down in peace to sleep, And calm my slumber, sweet my rest, While angels fair their vigil keep.

Takoma Park, D. C.