The Covert Of Thy Wings

 

I do not even ask, dear Lord,
That Thou should'st still the sea,
But that Thy strong unfailing love
with peace abide in me,

For well I know no storm would come
Could I not stand the test,
So let me lean with faith serene
Against Thy loving breast;
Willing thus to stand the storm
Though bruised by grief and pain,
Knowing that someday my loss
Will prove eternal gain.

For oh, I know no song-filled sky
Or days all bright and clear
Could ever cause my soul to cling
To Thee like this --- so near.
And had I been less tempest-tossed,
My heart could not have known
The utter sweetness just to trust
In Thee, and Thee alone!
And so I do not ask to fly
Above the storm and sing;
Just let me in the tempest feel
The covert of Thy wings!

~ Alice Hansche Mortenson