As the Savior in Gethsemane knelt down in solemn prayer,
In the anguish of his soul he sought his Father’s loving care.
“If possible, let this cup pass,” but then the fight he won.
“Oh Father, let not my will, but thy will be done.”
As I wander through this world I see the vice of men displayed.
There are many bypaths tempting me; how oft my feet have strayed.
My Savior to my aid will come, if ere the race is run,
My soul can say, “Not my will, but thy will be done.”
As I know I have been richly blessed, my footsteps gently led,
All my anxious heartaches laid at rest, my hungry spirit fed.
In gratitude I’ll bow before the Father and the Son,
And say to them “Not my will, but thy will be done.”
And when these mortal days are past, or when the Lord has come,
My heav’nly home I’ll find at last, if by my works I’ve shown
that I desire to do his will. In this is vict’ry won.
Dear Father, then shall thy will, not my will be done.
Copyright © 1987 by Julia Sorensen. All rights reserved. Making copies of this music for use within the Church is permitted. This notice must be included on each copy made.