by William G. Coltman

Until I learned to trust,
I never learned to pray;
And I did not learn to fully trust
Till sorrows came my way.

Until I felt my weakness,
His strength I never knew;
Nor dreamed 'til I was stricken
That he could see me through.

Who deepest drinks of sorrow,
Drinks deepest, too, of grace;
He sends the storm so he himself
Can be our hiding place.

His heart, that seeks our highest good
Knows well when things annoy;
We would not long for heaven
If earth held only joy.