In your loneliness you might feel as though no one sees. In your suffering you might think no one understands. But you have a sovereign God who already knows all about it.
I’ve read about every Christian book I can find on suffering.
Hi, I’m Joni Eareckson Tada and I don’t include the Bible in that list; you can’t read a better book on suffering than God’s Word right? No, I’m talking about things written on God’s sovereignty and purposes in suffering. But sometimes? You don’t need to read a whole book. Occasionally, it is best said in a poem.
And with me in this wheelchair? Dealing with the hardships I do? I have collected more than a few soul-stirring poems that describe the wonder of God’s sovereign rule, as well as reasons for my suffering. And today I want to share one of those poems with you. It’s written by Charlotte Elliott who lived in the 1800s; and although the words are a bit outdated, I think you’ll resonate with the tender heart of this beloved poet.
Miss Elliott calls this poem “All Is Known to Thee” and it goes like this:
“My God! whose gracious pity I may claim, Calling Thee ‘Father,’ sweet endearing name! The sufferings of this weak and weary frame, All, all are known to Thee. From human eyes ‘tis better to conceal Much that I suffer, much I hourly feel; But oh, this thought can calm the soul and heal, All, all is known to Thee. Each secret conflict with indwelling sin; Each sickening fear that never the prize I’ll win; Each pang from irritation, turmoil din, All, all are known to Thee.
When in the morning unrefreshed I wake, Or in the night but little rest can take, This brief appeal submissively I make, All, all is known to Thee. Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, planned, Each drop that fills my daily cup, Thy hand designs the trials none else can understand, All, is known to Thee. The effectual means to cure what I deplore, In me Thy longed-for likeness to restore, Self to dethrone, never to govern anymore. All, all are known to Thee.
And this continued feebleness—this state, Which seems to unnerve and incapacitate, Will work the cure my hopes and prayers await, That cure I leave to Thee. Nor will the bitter draught distasteful prove, When I recall the Son of Thy dear love; The cup Thou wouldst not for our sakes remove – That cup he drank for me. He drank it to the dregs – no drop remained Of wrath – for those whose cup of woe he drained: Man ne’er can know what that sad cup contained: All, all is known to Thee. And welcome, precious, can his Spirit make My little drop of suffering for his sake; Father! the cup I drink – the path I take, All, are known to Thee!”
Oh, friend, I wish I could describe how this poem touches my heart. And yes, it sounds old, and out of date and old fashioned. But the sentiment that it expresses – when we think of all that Christ suffered for us; how he made us alive even when we were dead in our transgressions; when I consider how full and free his grace is toward us, a reservoir of strength and power to say no to complaining and yes to contentment. That’s what this poem means to me. And if you would like a copy of this old poem, then visit me at joniradio.org and request a copy, or you can download it directly to your files. And, oh, may God make our little drop of suffering count for his glory as we all yield to his precious will! And yes, in your loneliness you might feel as though no one sees. In your suffering you might think no one understands. But you have a sovereign God to whom all, all is known. Yes, even you and your hardships. He knows all about it.
© Joni and Friends