O thou beloved child of My desire,
Whether I lead thee through green valleys,
By still waters,
Or through fire,
Or lay thee down in silence under snow,
Through any weather, and whatever
Cloud may gather,
Wind may blow—
Wilt love Me? trust Me? praise Me?
No gallant bird, O dearest Lord, am I,
That anywhere, in any weather,
Low I lie.
And yet I cannot fear, for I shall soar;
Thy love shall wing me, blessed Saviour.
So I answer:
I love Thee, trust Thee, praise Thee.