(Phillipians, iv.11) <br /> <br />Fierce passions discompose the mind, <br />As tempests vex the sea, <br />But calm, content and peace we find, <br />When, Lord, we turn to Thee. <br /> <br />In vain by reason and by rule <br />We try to bend the will; <br />For none but in the Saviour's school <br />Can learn the heavenly skill. <br /> <br />Since at His feet my soul has sate, <br />His gracious words to hear, <br />Contented with my present state, <br />I cast on Him my care. <br /> <br />"Art thou a sinner, soul?" He said, <br />"Then how canst thou complain? <br />How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd <br />With everlasting pain! <br /> <br />"If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured, <br />Compare thy griefs with mine! <br />Think what my love for thee endured, <br />And thou wilt not repine. <br /> <br />"'Tis I appoint thy daily lot, <br />And I do all things well; <br />Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot, <br />And rise with me to dwell. <br /> <br />"In life my grace shall strength supply, <br />Proportion'd to thy day; <br />At death thou still shalt find me nigh, <br />To wipe thy tears away." <br /> <br />Thus I, who once my wretched days <br />In vain repinings spent, <br />Taught in my Saviour's school of grace, <br />Have learnt to be content.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/contentment-3/
