“The LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away.”
Job 1: 21.
OH, blessed Lord, I fain would be resigned;
I would not murmur, would not e'en repine;
But, with a childlike trust, as one that's blind,
Put my weak hand in that strong hand of Thine,
And let it lead me all my pilgrim days:
For wise and right, I know, are all Thy ways.
O Lord, at times I feel all desolate;
The cup too bitter seems for me to drink,
The loss too heavy,-burden all too great:
From the keen knife I oft-times weeping shrink,
That prunes the branches; though Thy love ordains,
And fruit shall grow from all these needed pains.
Thou dost compassionate, my great High Priest,
Thy heart with mine can fully sympathize;
Though of Thy saints I deem myself the least,
I know I 'm precious in Thy gracious eyes:
Thou hast redeemed me at no less a price,
Than the rich blood of Thine own sacrifice.
O Lord, sustain me! I would learn of Thee,
In Thy Gethsemane, my woes to bear:
Oh, how Thy tears and soul-crushed agony,
Thy sweat of blood, Thy thrice-repeated prayer-
“Father, not will of mine, but Thine be done,”
Have o'er my struggling will the mastery won.
And then Thy sorrows, Lord, were ours, not Thine,
Save as Thy love did make our griefs Thine own;
Ours were the sins, for which Thy grace divine
Brought Thee a willing Victim to atone:
Thou didst the sword of justice once endure,
To make Thy people's full salvation sure.
Oh, blessed Jesus, shall I then complain?
Shall I not meekly kiss Thy Father's rod?
There is no vengeance in the strokes that pain;
Not wrath, but love, directs the hand of God:
He is my Father who afflicts His child;
Shall not my will to His be reconciled?
'T is but "a little while!" I feel I need
This scourge, this bitter cup, this loss, and woe;
Thy balm will heal the wounds that inward bleed,
In Thy best time: but patience, Lord, bestow,
And deep submission to His holy will;
Say to each rising tempest, "Peace, be still.”
I 'm thy poor sheep, my Shepherd, though I've roved,
Alas! so much, and often, from Thy side;
Well mayst Thou break the idols I have loved,
To cause me in Thy presence to abide:
If my best earthly joy Thou didst remove,
It was to teach the fullness of Thy love.
When I am with Thee, I shall comprehend
The end and needs-be of each stroke of pain;
See that Thou wast my wise, unchanging Friend,
All whose rebukes were faithfulness and gain:
Then shall I praise Thee more, and bless the rod,
Which now I humbly kiss, my Savior-God.