I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that I’m the only person in the world who reads through back issues of the Ann Arbor Baptist, a periodical from the late 1800s. But periodicals like that were the blogs of their era and within their pages I find such interesting articles and poems. One that I spotted recently (though I’ve spotted it in other works as well, sometimes adapted into a hymn) is Mary Brainard’s “I Know Not What Shall Befall Me,” a poem of trust in God’s character and his providence. It is well worth a read—aloud, of course, as poems are meant to be read. I know not what shall befall me,God hangs a mist o’er my eyes,And each step in my onward pathHe makes new scenes to rise,And every joy He sends to meComes as a sweet surprise. I see not a step before meAs I tread on another year,But the past is still in God’s keeping,The future His mercy shall clear,And what looks dark in the distanceMay brighten as I draw near. For perhaps the dreaded futureHas less bitter than I think;The Lord may sweeten the watersBefore I stoop to drink;Or, if Marah must be Marah,He will stand beside its brink. It may be He has, waitingFor the coming of my feet,Some gift of such rare value,Some joy so strangely sweet,That my lips shall only trembleWith the thanks they cannot speak. O, restful blissful ignorance!’Tis blessed not to know:It keeps me still in those armsWhich will not let me go,And hushes my soul … Continue reading Restful Blissful Ignorance