1 Now that my journey’s just begun;
My course so little trod—
I’ll stay before I further go,
And give myself to God:
What sorrows may my steps attend,
I cannot now foretell;
But if the Lord will be my friend,
I know that all is well.

2 If all my earthly friends should die,
And leave me mourning here—
Since God regards the orphan’s cry—
Oh! what have I to fear?
If I am poor He can supply—
Who hath my table spread;
He feeds the ravens when they cry,
And fills His poor with bread.

3 And Lord, whatever grief or ill
For me may be in store,
Make me submissive to Thy will,
And I would ask no more;
And all the way be Thou my stay,
Whatever be my lot,
And when I’m feeble, old and gray,
Oh! God, forsake me not.