Thy way, O Lord! Thy way—not mine!Although, opprest,For smoother, sunnier paths I pine,Thy way is best. Though crossing thirsty deserts drear,Or mountain’s crest;Although I faint with toil and fear,Thy way is best. Though not one open door befriendThe passing guest;Though night its darkest terror lend,Thy way is best. So seeming wild without a plan,Now east, now …
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