Oh, that we might trust in the Lord,
Who loves, and aye will love us,
And never have rebellious thought
Of Him who reigns above us.

His sovereign rule, though wise and great,
Is gentle as a brother's;
His love is constant, infinite,
And tender as a mother's.

How strange that we should ever doubt,
When enemies assail us,
That His good will can bear us out,
Or fear His arm might fail us.

We 've read the history of His grace,
And of Redemption's story,
Of thousands He has guided through
Our desert world to glory.

But never have we read of one
He by the hand had taken,
To lead in ways of righteousness,
The Lord hath e'er forsaken.

The smoking flax He will not quench,
Nor chide the poor in spirit;
But broken hearts that trust His grace
His kingdom shall inherit.