Thou sweet beloved will of God, My anchor ground, my fortress hill, My spirit's silent, fair abode, In Thee I hide me, and am still

O Will, that wiliest good alone, Lead Thou the way, Thou guidest best: A little child, I follow on, And trusting, lean upon Thy breast.

Oh, lightest burden, sweetest yoke! It lifts, it bears my happy soul, It giveth wings to this poor heart; My freedom is Thy grand control.

Upon God's will I lay me down, As child upon its mother's breast; No silken couch, nor softest bed, Could ever give me such deep rest.

Thy wonderful grand will, my God, With triumph now I make it mine; And faith shall cry a joyous, Yes! To every dear command of Thine.