1 Lord! I am pain'd; but I resign
My body to thy will;
'Tis grace, 'tis wisdom all divine
Appoints the pains I feel.
2 Dark are the ways of providence,
When those who love thee groan:
The reasons lie conceal'd from sense,
Mysterious and unknown.
3 Yet nature may have leave to speak,
And plead before her God,
Lest the o'er burden'd heart should break
Beneath thine heavy rod.
4 The mournful groans and flowing tears,
Give my poor spirit ease;
While every groan my Father hears;
And every tear he sees.
5 Is not some smiling hour at hand,
With peace upon its wings!
Give it, O God! thy swift command,
With all the joys it brings!
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Lord! I'm pain'd; but I resign |
Meter: | C. M. |
Publication Date: | 1828 |
Topic: | Hope is sickness; Sickness and Recovery |