I Will be Still

I will be still, my bruised heart faintly murmured,
As o'er me rolled a crushing load of woe;
My words, my cries, e'en my low moan was stifled;
I pressed my lips; I barred the teardrop's flow.

I will be still, although I cannot see it,
The love that bares a soul and fans pain's fire;
What takes away the last sweet drop of solace,
Breaks the lone harp string, hides Your precious lyre.

God is love, so I will stay me, stay me--
We'll doubt not, Soul, we will be very still;
We'll wait til after while, when He will lift us--
Yes, after while, when it will be His will.

And I did listen to my heart's brave promise;
And I did quiver, struggling to be still;
I did lift my tearless eyes to Heaven,
Repeating ever, "Yes, Christ, have Your will."

But soon my heart spoke up from 'neath our burden,
Rebuked my tight-drawn lips, my face so sad:
"We can do more than this, O Soul," it whispered.
"We can be more than still, we can be glad!"

And now my heart and I sweetly singing--
Singing without the sound of tuneful strings;
Drinking abundant waters in the desert;
Crushed, and yet soaring as on eagle's wings.

~S.P.W.