By: Father William Fredrick Faber
I worship thee, sweet
will of God,
And all thy ways adore!
And every day I live, I long
To love thee more and more.
And all thy ways adore!
And every day I live, I long
To love thee more and more.
Thou wert the end, the
blessed rule
Of our Savior’s toils and tears;
Thou wert the passion of His heart
Those three and thirty years.
Of our Savior’s toils and tears;
Thou wert the passion of His heart
Those three and thirty years.
And He hath breath’d
into my soul
A special love of thee,
A love to lose my will in His
And by that loss be free.
A special love of thee,
A love to lose my will in His
And by that loss be free.
I love to see thee bring
to naught
The plans of wily men;
When simple hearts outwit the wise,
Oh, thou art loveliest then!
The plans of wily men;
When simple hearts outwit the wise,
Oh, thou art loveliest then!
The headstrong world it
presses hard
Upon the Church full oft,
And then how easily thou turn’st
The hard ways into soft.
Upon the Church full oft,
And then how easily thou turn’st
The hard ways into soft.
I love to kiss each
print where thou
Hast set thine unseen feet;
I cannot fear thee, blessèd will!
Thine empire is so sweet.
Hast set thine unseen feet;
I cannot fear thee, blessèd will!
Thine empire is so sweet.
When obstacles and
trials seem
Like prison walls to be,
I do the little I can do,
And leave the rest to thee.
Like prison walls to be,
I do the little I can do,
And leave the rest to thee.
I know not what it is to
doubt—
My heart is ever gay;
I run no risk, for, come what will,
Thou always hast thy way.
My heart is ever gay;
I run no risk, for, come what will,
Thou always hast thy way.
I have no cares, thou
blessèd will!
For all my cares are thine:
I live in triumph, Lord, for Thou
Hast made Thy triumphs mine.
For all my cares are thine:
I live in triumph, Lord, for Thou
Hast made Thy triumphs mine.
And when it seems no
chance or change
From grief can set me free,
Hope finds its strength in helplessness,
And gaily waits on thee.
From grief can set me free,
Hope finds its strength in helplessness,
And gaily waits on thee.
Man’s weakness, waiting
upon God,
Its end can never miss,
For men on earth no work can do
More angel-like than this.
Its end can never miss,
For men on earth no work can do
More angel-like than this.
Ride on, ride on,
triumphantly,
Thou glorious will, ride on!
Faith’s pilgrim sons behind thee take
The road that thou hast gone.
Thou glorious will, ride on!
Faith’s pilgrim sons behind thee take
The road that thou hast gone.
He always wins who sides
with God;
To him no chance is lost;
God’s will is sweetest to him, when
It triumphs at his cost.
To him no chance is lost;
God’s will is sweetest to him, when
It triumphs at his cost.
Ill that He blesses is
our good,
And unbless’d good is ill;
And all is right that seems most wrong,
If it be His sweet will.
And unbless’d good is ill;
And all is right that seems most wrong,
If it be His sweet will.
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