I Would Not Cherish A Wish Or Thought Displeasing, Lord, To Thee; Thy Will Is Good, And With Wisdom Fraught, And That Suffices Me. I Cannot Alter A Plan Of Thine, And Would Not If I Could; I Acquiesce In The Will Divine, And Find My Highest Good. At Times My Vessel Drifts Near The Shore, And The Beacon Lights Expire, The Surf-Capped Waves Swell More And More, And Threaten With Ruin Dire; But Only The Surface Sea Is Rough; The Ocean'S Depths Are Calm, And A Star Affords Me Light Enough, The Star Of Bethlehem. And By Its Light I Discern The Sand And Rocks Along The Coast, And Turn Away Toward A Fairer Land, And Standing At My Post, I Guide My Bark Thro' The Tempest Wild, Borne On By Wind And Tide, Till God Receives His Weak, Erring Child, And Shelters Near His Side. "Lo, I Come, O Lord, To Do Thy Will!" Shines From My Star Divine, And My Heart Cries Out, "In Me Fulfill Also, Thy Wise Design." I Would Not Alter A Plan Of Thine If I The Power Possessed; My Will Is Lost In The Will Divine, 'Tis Here I Find My Rest.