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He Sendeth Sun, He Sendeth Shower

He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower,Alike they're needful for the flower:And joys and tears alike are sentTo give the soul fit nourishment.As comes to me or cloud or sun,Father! thy will, not mine, be done!Can loving children e'er reproveWith murmurs whom they trust and love?Creator! I would ever beA trusting, loving child to thee:As comes to me or cloud or sun,Father! thy will, not mine, be done!Oh, ne'er will I at life repine:Enough that thou hast made it mine.When falls the shadow cold of deathI yet will sing, with parting breath,As comes to me or shade or sun,Father! thy will, not mine, be done!