1 Be still, my soul, before thy God,
when called to pass beneath the rod;
His chast'ning hand learn thou to bless,
who chastens e'er in righteousness.

2 Be still, my soul, and murmur not,
however hard may be thy lot;
Though sorest grief now weigh thee down,
glory ere long thy course shall crown.

3 Be still, my soul, in trustful rest;
whate'er God wills for thee is best.
He chastens only whom He loves;
His rod thy folly but reproves.

4 Be still, my soul, submissively
accept what He appoints for thee;
Though in the fiery furnace tried,
in hope rejoice, in faith abide.

5 Be still, my soul, and thou shalt see
that Christ hath vict'ry won for thee.
Be still, amid the storm and strife;
be still, and win the crown of life.