Fierce passions discompose the mind,

As tempests vex the sea;

But calm content and peace we find,

When, LORD, we turn to thee.

In vain by reason and by rule,

We try to bend the will;

For none, but in the Savior’s school,

Can learn the heav’nly skill.

Since at his feet my soul has sat,

His gracious words to hear;

Contented with my present state,

I cast, on him, my care.

“Art thou a sinner, soul? he said,

Then how canst thou complain?

How light thy troubles here, if weighed

With everlasting pain!

If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,

Compare thy griefs with mine;

Think what my love for thee endured,

And thou wilt not repine.

’Tis I appoint thy daily lot,

And I do all things well:

Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,

And rise with me to dwell.

In life my grace shall strength supply,

Proportioned to thy day;

At death thou still shalt find me nigh,

To wipe thy tears away.”

Thus I who once my wretched days,

In vain repinings spent;

Taught in my Savior’s school of grace,

Have learned to be content.