Wait, my soul, wait patiently--
Thy Father's hand, it works in thee.
Though blessing full He may delay,
A song He'll give at break of day.
Rest, my soul, rest quietly--
Thy Father's arms, they shelter thee.
Though storm clouds round about thee roll.
Sweet comfort He shall give thy soul.
Trust, my soul, trust childishly--
Thy Father knows what's best for thee.
Though all looks black as night e'er could,
His hand is working all for good.
Pray, my soul, pray fervently--
Thy Father's ear, it heareth thee.
Though feebly weak thy words may seem,
The Spirit gives them heav'nly gleam.
Rejoice, my soul, rejoice gladly--
Thy Father's always good to thee.
Now wait and trust, and rest and pray;
He will not fail--He'll lead thy way.
© Rebekah W., 2007