Be Still!

Peace! Be still!
In this night of sorrow bow,
O my heart, contend not thou!
What befalls thee is God’s will, –
Peace! Be still!

Peace! Be still!
All thy murmuring words are vain, –
God will make the riddle plain:
Wait his word, and bear his will, –
Peace! Be still!

Hold thee still!
Though the Father scourge thee sore,
Cling thou to him all the more,
Let him mercy’s work fulfil!
Hold thee still!

Hold thee still!
Though the good Physician’s knife
Seem to touch thy very life,
Death alone he means to kill,
Hold thee still!

Lord, my God!
Give me grace, that I may be
Thy true child, and silently
Own thy sceptre and they rod,
Lord, my God!

Shepherd mine!
From thy fulness give me still
Faith to do and bear Thy will,
Till the morning light shall shine, –
Shepherd mine!

– From the German.