Thou knowest, Lord, Thou know’st my life’s deep story,
And all the mingled good and ill I do;
Thou seest my shame, my few stray gleams of glory,
Where I am false and where my soul rings true.

Lord, I am glad Thou know’st my inmost being,
Glad Thou dost search the secrets of my heart;
I would not hide one folly from Thy seeing,
Nor shun Thy healing touch to save the smart.

Like warp and woof the good and ill are blended,
Nor do I see the pattern that I weave;
Yet in Thy love the whole is comprehended,
And in Thy hand my future lot I leave.

Only, dear Lord, make plain the path of duty;
Let not my shame and sorrow weigh me down,
Lest in despair I fail to see its beauty,
And weeping vainly, miss the victor’s crown.