Classic Poem

'T WAS He that called me from the stir and press
The kindly noises of the market place,
The tender voice, the dear familiar face,
Who lured me with the light I loved — ah yes,
I loved and trusted wholly. Could I guess
That He who fed the hope and stilled the fear,
That He who led me here would leave me here
Alone and naked in the wilderness?

Light, in impenetrable clouds enfurled,
So great, we ask not whether good or bad,
Procurer and avenger of our sin:
Just God, behold Thy justice and be glad;
I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast made the world
For Thee to rule, and me to dwell therein.