I know not why His hand is laid
In chastening on my life,
Nor why it is my little world
Is filled so full of strife.
I know not why, when faith looks up
And seeks for rest from pain
That o’er my sky fresh clouds arise
And drench my path with rain.
I know not why my prayer so long
By Him has been denied;
Nor why, while others’ ships sail on,
Mine should in port abide.
But I do know that God is love,
That He my burden shares,
And though I may not understand,
I know, for me, He cares.
I know the sheaves must needs be threshed
To yield the golden grain.
I know that, though He may remove
The friends on whom I lean,
Tis that I thus may learn to love
And trust the One unseen.
And, when at last I see His face
And know as I am known,
I will not care how rough the road
That led me to my home.

Originally Published in:
Vol. 19 No. 1 February 1959