It matters not what be thy lot, So love doth guide; For storm or shine, pure peace is thine, Whate’er betide. And of these stones, or tyrant’s thrones, God able is To raise up seed in thought and deed To
faithful His. Aye, darkling sense, arise, go hence! Our God is good. False fears are foes Truth tatters those, When understood. Love looseth thee, and lifteth me, Ayont hate’s thrall: There life is light, and
wisdom might, And God is All. The centuries break, the earthbound wake, God’s glorified! Who doth His will His likeness still Is satisfied.