Blessed are you if you trust the LORD

-on the northern Mississippi

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When the frosts are in the valley,

   And the mountaintops are gray,

And the choicest blooms are blighted,

   And the blossoms die away,

A loving Father whispers,

   "This all comes from my hand";

Blessed are you if you trust

   When you cannot understand.

If, after years of toiling,

   Your wealth should fly away

And leave your hands all empty,

   And your hair is turning gray,

Remember then your Father

   Owns all the sea and land;

Blessed are you if you trust

   When you cannot understand.

-Unknown

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