971. C. M. Anonymous. The Widow's Prayer.

1 Though faint and sick, and worn away
With poverty and woe,
My widowed feet are doomed to stray
'Mid thorny paths below.

2 Be thou, O Lord, my Father still,
My confidence and guide:
I know that perfect is thy will,
Whate'er that will decide.

3 I know the soul that trusts in thee
Thou never wilt forsake;
And though a bruised reed I be,
That reed thou wilt not break.

4 Then keep me, Lord, where'er I go,
Support me on my way,
Though, worn with poverty and woe,
My widowed footsteps stray.

5 To give my weakness strength, O God,
Thy staff shall yet avail;
And though thou chasten with thy rod,
That staff shall never fail.