Promises, promises

Growing up, I was always annoyed by this one poem by mom insisted on hanging in a prominent place wherever we lived.  I remember it most distinctly as hanging in the dining room in the apartment we lived in my last three years of high school.  I see it in my mind in that spot, and I remember the feeling of dislike.  But the words stuck with me, and lately, I've been coming back to them, and realizing how true they are.  So, curious about the poem and its writer, I turned to the Almighty Google.  This is what I found.

The poet was Annie Johnson Flint who wrote numerous poems and hymns. The "poem" as I knew it was really just the 1st verse and chorus of the hymn "What God Hath Promised."  Annie had a really tough life, almost from birth.  She never married, and struggled with chronic illness.  She wrote to support herself and her sister, who was also ill.   "Her life was lived, as someone has said, from hand to mouth, but as she liked to have it expressed, the mouth was hers, and the hand was God’s and His hand was never empty."

Wow.

Intellectually, I know that to be true, and the foundation of my trust in God, which is the very bedrock of my existence, but I want to - no, I need to know it more, deeper, more consistently, every day, every minute, breathing in His grace, His power, His provision for all my needs.... yeah.

So, here's that hymn.  And... thanks, mom!  :)

God hath not promised skies always blue,
Flower strewn pathways all our lives through;
God hath not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

Refrain
But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

God hath not promised we shall not know
Toil and temptation, trouble and woe;
He hath not told us we shall not bear
Many a burden, many a care.

God hath not promised smooth roads and wide,
Swift, easy travel, needing no guide;
Never a mountain rocky and steep,
Never a river turbid and deep.