"THY WILL, NOT MINE."

W. PETCH.

IN Thy pure sight, O wondrous eyes of God,
Naught but the perfect thought is ever seen;
For every serpent-fear, behold, a rod!
On which the erring human sense may lean.

No life have I, but consciousness of Thee,—
Of deathless Love that ever must increase;
No time I count, for present and to be
But blend into one perfect day of peace!

No work I do, but all that's done is Thine;
No love I give, but first 'twas given to me;
No strength I lack, for I find strength divine
And rest in every step I take with Thee!

So may I learn to know each thought aright,
As God—our Mother—gives them radiant birth,
Till Life stills death, till day outshines the night,
And Love interprets heaven to all the earth!

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