Tersteegen; J. S. Pigott
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.
2
O Will, that willest good alone,
Lead Thou the way, Thou guidest best:
A little child, I follow on,
And, trusting, lean upon Thy breast.
3
Thy beautiful sweet will, my God,
Holds fast in its sublime embrace
My captive will, a gladsome bird,
Prisoned in such a realm of grace.
4
Within this place of certain good
Love evermore expands her wings,
Or nestling in Thy perfect choice,
Abides content with what it brings.
5
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.
6
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.
7
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.