Father, my way, is not mine own,

I would Thy guiding hand to hold,

As I must walk thru shades of night,

Afflicted, troubled, in the strife.

To Thee alone I lift my eyes,

In loving favor, hear my cries,

As nought but dust and clay, Oh Lord,

Thy tender mercies I implore.

All things are in Thy mighty hand,

My every foe 'neath Thy command,

And bounds of love around me cast,

Which no temptation shall o'er-pass.

Thy will, dear Lord, alone I seek,

As Thou with rod and staff now keep,

Thy little fold within Thy love,

'Till we shall rest in Heav'n above.