1 When will the boon for which I daily pray,
Descend with healing on my troubled way,
And chase the shadows from my darkened day?
In God’s good time.

2 If I am sinning in my daily prayer,
If what I ask would prove a curse, a snare,
When shall the whisper come, O soul, beware?
In God’s good time.

3 Till then I battle strong with hope delayed,
And plead with patience for her potent aid:
When shall the strife be o’er, the tempest stayed?
In God’s good time.

4 May I be firm to hope, to trust, to wait,
Earnest but humble at the heav’nly gate,
Through which the good I crave may crown my fate.
In God’s good time.

And should it come not, should the light of years
Go out beneath a flood of blinding tears,
I’ll bide the dawn which soon or late appears.
In God’s good time.