I take my portion from Thy hand,

And do not seek to understand;

For I am blind, while Thou dost see,

Thy will is mine, whate'er it be.

When darkness doth Thy face obscure,

And many sorrows I endure,

I think of Christ's Gethsemane;

Thy will is mine, whate'er it be.

When tender joys to me are known,

I render thanks to Thee alone;

I know my cup is filled by Thee;

Thy will is mine, whate'er it be.

Thus calmly do I face my lot,

Accept it, Lord, and doubt Thee not;

Lo! All things work for good to me;

Thy will is mine, whate'er it be.