I face the rising sun,
And pray, “Thy will be done.”
‘Tis not for sloth or lack of care
That has me ending my prayer there.
Rather, I trust You are good.
All my life I’ve understood
That if You’re goodness proves as true,
Then I can leave all things to You,
Surrendering my need to grasp,
Or to my sense of power clasp.
With my eyes down, I’ll do my best,
And leave in Your good hands the rest.