"I hoped, that with the brave and strong..."

I hoped, that with the brave and strong, My portioned task might lie; To toil amid the busy throng, With purpose pure and high. But God has fixed another part, And He has fixed it well; I said so with my bleeding heart, When first the anguish fell. Thou, God, hast taken our delight, Our treasured hope away: Thou bid'st us now weep through the night And sorrow through the day. These weary hours will not be lost, These days of misery, These nights of darkness, anguish-tost, Can I but turn to Thee. With secret labour to sustain In humble patience every blow; To gather fortitude from pain, And hope and holiness from woe. Thus let me serve Thee from my heart, Whate'er may be my written fate: Whether thus early to depart, Or yet a while to wait. If Thou shouldst bring me back to life, More humbled I should be; More wise--more strengthened for the strife-- More apt to lean on Thee. Should death be standing at the gate, Thus should I keep my vow: But, Lord! whatever be my fate, Oh, let me serve Thee now!