Oh, could I rule my erring thought,
Each wrong desire subdue;
And serve my maker as I ought,
And Thou would'st have me do.
Oh, could I discipline my mind,
To seek the heavenly goal;
Nor strive, in earthly things, to find
A treasure for the soul.
Then should my lips no more complain,
('Tis sin that makes my grief;)
But Thou, that givest ease for pain,
Would'st quickly bring relief.
Ascendant over time and sense,
My feet would upward move,
Protected by thy Providence,
Rejoicing in thy love.
Each wrong desire subdue;
And serve my maker as I ought,
And Thou would'st have me do.
Oh, could I discipline my mind,
To seek the heavenly goal;
Nor strive, in earthly things, to find
A treasure for the soul.
Then should my lips no more complain,
('Tis sin that makes my grief;)
But Thou, that givest ease for pain,
Would'st quickly bring relief.
Ascendant over time and sense,
My feet would upward move,
Protected by thy Providence,
Rejoicing in thy love.
— American Cottage Life (1850)
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