BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD.
By Mary Martin
How the proud heart shrinks as day by day
Stroke after stroke the sharp blows fall;
While for what we wish we vainly pray,
The dreaded comes without a call. A wisdom higher than thine, poor child,
Has given the blow and holds the rod;
And in all thy anguish, deep and wild,
Is saying, “Be still, I am thy God.” If our earthly garments were never torn,
If never our hearts had felt a care,
Or our weary feet pressed piercing thorns,
We might never ask Heaven’s bliss to share. ’Tis because a wreath of withered leaves
The aching head must each day uphold,
That the heart so often longs and grieves
For a starry crown of purest gold. ’Tis because we live so near the ground,
When a voice has often said, Arise,
That we see no stars in the sky beyond,
But only the clouds so near our eyes. If our tired feet we will heavenward turn,
We shall see some day the path we trod
Was the only one where we could learn
To “be still” and know the Lord is God. Concerning his promise, he is not slack,
In his own good time, we know not how,
Will the long-lost joy of the past come back,
And the clouds uplift from heart and brow. ’Tis hidden under the heaviest cross,
’Neath burdens crushing to human strength.
Where earthly gain has been counted loss,
The greatest blessings are found at length. The darkest night reveals brightest stars
That the midday sun has never shown;
And from dungeon walls and prison bars
Come the greatest tho’t’s the world has known. The sunny soul will again look out
From its windows dimmed for long, long years,
For He who bringeth all this about,
Will have wiped away the last sad tears.