Submission.

A poem by William Cowper

O Lord, my best desire fulfil,
And help me to resign
Life, health, and comfort to thy will,
And make thy pleasure mine.


Why should I shrink at thy command,
Whose love forbids my fears?
Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my tears?


No, let me rather freely yield
What most I prize to thee;
Who never hast a good withheld,
Or wilt withhold, from me.


Thy favour, all my journey through,
Thou art engaged to grant;
What else I want, or think I do,
‘Tis better still to want.


Wisdom and mercy guide my way,
Shall I resist them both?
A poor blind creature of a day,
And crush’d before the moth!


But ah! my inward spirit cries,
Still bind me to thy sway;
Else the next cloud that veils the skies,
Drives all these thoughts away.

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