1 O Father, in this trial hour,
My soul cries out for Thee;
The darkness hies Thee while Thy pow'r
Enfolds me silently.
I cannot see Thy guiding hand,
Thy voice I hear no more,
Thy will I do not understand
Yet would that will adore.

2 Where'er I turn, my pathway seems
Bestrewn with thorns and woes;
But where Thy hidden presence beams,
E'en there would I repose,
The solemn mysteries of life
I seek not now to read;
Amid the anguish and the strife
Do Thou my footsteps lead.

3 Thou knowest all my needs O God,
My weakness and my fear;
I murmur not beneath the rod
But own thy chast'ning dear,
I ask not "wherefore dost Thou chide?
Why bow me in the dust"?
In Thy great love I still abide,
And in Thy goodness trust.