p. 126 | UNDER THE CROSS

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 30, 1873

UNDER THE CROSS.

I cannot, cannot say— Out of my bruised and breaking heart— Storm-driven along a thorn-set way, While blood-drops start From every pore as I drag on— “Thy will, O God, be done!”

I thought but yesterday My will was one with God’s dear will; And that it would be sweet to say— Whatever ill My happy state should smite upon— “Thy will, my God, be done!”

But I was weak and wrong, Both weak of soul and wrong of heart; And pride alone in me was strong, With cunning art To cheat me in the golden sun, To say, “God’s will be done!”

O shadow, drear and cold, That frights me out of foolish pride; O flood, that through my bosom rolled Its billowy tide— I said, till ye your power made known, “God’s will, not mine, be done!”

Now faint and sore afraid, Under my cross—heavy and rude— My idols in the ashes laid, Like ashes strewed, The holy words my pale lips shun, “O God, thy will be done!”

Pity my woes, O God! And touch my will with thy warm breath; Put in my trembling hand thy rod That quickens death; That my dead faith may feel thy sun, And say, “Thy will be done!”

—Baptist Union.