[Written for the Sentinel.]

THOU KNOWEST BEST

In other days of other years afar,
To all life's vaunting joys I gladly turned,
Mine own self-will, my happiness, the quest—
And yet in vain! For this I had not learned:
Thou knowest best.

Through tears and trials still 'tis ours to prove,
Or soon or late,—for so to choose we may,—
There is no gladness, harmony, nor rest
Until we do Thy will, content to pray:
Thou knowest best.

Beyond the dim horizon's distant hills
I cannot see the path, nor trace the way
My feet shall walk. Nor do I ask, What test?
What gain? Enough for me it is to say:
Thou knowest best.

Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Editorial
FOR THE WORK'S SAKE
November 11, 1911
Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit