
1 Should famine o'er the mourning field
Extend her desolating reign,
Nor spring her blooming beauties yield,
Nor autumn swell the fruitful grain:
2 Should lowing herds, and bleating sheep,
Around their famish'd master die;
And hope itself despairing weep,
While life deplores its last supply:
3 Amid the dark, the deathful scene,
If I can say, the Lord is mine!
The joy shall triumph o'er the pain,
And glory dawn, though life decline.
4 The God of my salvation lives;
My nobler life he will sustain;
His word immortal vigor gives,
Nor shall my glorious hopes be vain.
5 Thy presence, Lord, can cheer my heart,
Though ev'ry earthly comfort die;
Thy smile can bid my pains depart,
And raise my sacred pleasures high.
6 O let me hear thy blissful voice,
Inspiring life and joys divine!
The barren desert shall rejoice;
'Tis paradise, if thou art mine.
Source: A Collection of Hymns and A Liturgy: for the use of Evangelical Lutheran Churches; to which are added prayers for families and individuals #469
First Line: | Should famine o'er the mourning field |
Author: | Anne Steele |
Copyright: | Public Domain |