1 Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempest vex the sea;
But calm content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to thee.

2 In vain by reason and by rule,
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavn'ly skill.

3 Since at his feet my soul has sat,
His gracious words to hear,
contented with my present state,
I cast on him my care.

4 'Tis he appoints my daily lot,
And will do all things well;
Soon shall I leave this wretched spot,
And rise with him to dwell.

5 In life his grace shall strength supply,
Proportion'd to my day;
In death I still shall find him nigh,
To bear my soul away.

6 Thus I, who once my wretched days
In vain repinings spent;
Taught in my Saviour's school of grace,
Have learn'd to be content.