For toil that is a medicine for woe,
For strength that grows with every lifted cross,
For thorns, since with each thorn a rose did grow,
For gain that I have wrongly reckoned loss,
For ignorance, where it were harm to know--
Teach me to thank thee, Lord.
For cups of honeyed pleasure thou didst spill
Before their foam had quenched my purer sense;
For that my soul has power to struggle still,
Though panting in the trappings of pretense;
And for mistakes that saved from greater ill--
Teach me to thank thee, Lord.
That thou dost ravel out the tinselled thread
Of my poor work I thought so bravely done;
That thou dost show me every flimsy shred
In the thin coat of honor I have spun,
And pluck'st the slender garland from my head--
Teach me to thank thee, Lord.
For ills averted, all unseen by me,
For darkened days that healed my dazzled eyes,
For suffering which brought a company
Of gentle ministers, in stern disguise;
For weariness, which made me lean on thee--
Teach me to thank thee, Lord.
For chalices of tears that thou dost pour,
For unrequited love and wounded pride;
If they but tempt my lonesome heart the more
To seek the faithful shelter of thy side;
For homelessness, which drives me to thy door--
Teach me to thank thee, Lord.
