“I worship thee, sweet Will of God,
And all thy ways adore;
And every day I live, I see
To love thee more and more.”
“I love to kiss each print where thou
Hast set thine unseen feet.
I cannot fear thee, blessed Will,
Thine empire is so sweet.”
“I have no cares, O blessed Will,
For all my cares are thine;
I live in triumph, Lord, for thou
Hast made thy triumph mine.”
Not every Christian seems able to enter into Faber’s adoration of the will of God. Many good people think always of this will as something painful, something hard and bitter. When they say, in the petition of The Lord’s Prayer, “Thy will be done,” they put a shudder into the words as if a ploughshare were being driven through their very heart. They have learned to think that God’s will means always a sorrow, the death of a loved one, the loss of property, the enduring of some sore trial. The words suggest to them always a cross of some kind.
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