Precious thought, My Father knoweth,
In His love I rest;
For whate’er my Father doeth
Must be always best.
Well I know the heart that planneth
Nought but good for me;
Joy and sorrow interwoven,
Love in all I see.
Precious thought, My Father knoweth,
Careth for His child;
Bids me nestle closer to Him
When the storm beats wild.
Though my earthly hopes are shattered,
And the tear-drops fall,
Yet He is Himself my solace,
Yea, my “all in all!”
Sweet to tell Him all He knoweth,
Roll on him the care,
Cast upon Himself the burden
That I cannot bear.
Then, without a care oppressing,
Simply to lie still,
Giving thanks to Him for all things,
Since it is His will.
Oh, to trust Him then more fully!
Just to simply move
In the conscious, calm enjoyment
Of the Father’s love,
Knowing that life’s chequered pathway
Leadeth to His rest,
Satisfied the way He taketh
Must be always best.
Author – initials L. W. unknown
Published in The Christian’s Friend : 1883 : “Your father knoweth.
