Oft there comes a gentle whisper o'er me stealing,
When my trials or my burdens seem too great,
Like the sweet voiced bells of evening softly pealing,
When I cannot understand where God is leading,
And it seems to be but hard and cruel fate,
Still I hear that gentle whisper ever pleading,
"God is faithful; God is working; only wait."
When the promise seems to linger, long delaying,
And I tremble lest perhaps it come too late,
Then I hear the gentle whisper ever saying,
"Though it tarry, it is coming; only wait."
Oh how little soon will seem our present sorrow,
And how trifling is our present brief estate;
Could we see it in the light of Love's tomorrow,
Oh how easy it would be for us to wait.