Be still, my soul, before thy God,
when called to pass beneath the rod;
His chast'ning hand learn thou to bless,
who chastens e'er in righteousness.
Be still, my soul, and murmur not,
however hard may be thy lot;
Though sorest grief now weigh thee down,
glory ere long thy course shall crown.
Be still, my soul, in trustful rest;
whate'er God wills for thee is best.
He chastens only whom He loves;
His rod thy folly but reproves.
Be still, my soul, submissively
accept what He appoints for thee;
Though in the fiery furnace tried,
in hope rejoice, in faith abide.
Be still, my soul, and thou shalt see
that Christ hath vict'ry won for thee.
Be still, amid the storm and strife;
be still, and win the crown of life.
