To Myself

by Paul Fleming

From the German by Catherine Winkworth LET nothing make thee sad or fretful,       Or too regretful;             Be still; What God hath ordered must be right; Then find in it thine own delight,             My will. Why shouldst thou fill to-day with sorrow       About to-morrow,             My heart? One watches all with care most true; Doubt not that he will give thee too             Thy part. Only be steadfast; never waver,       Nor seek earth’s favor,             But rest: Thou knowest what God wills must be For all his creatures, so for thee,             The best.

More poems by Paul Fleming

All poems by Paul Fleming →