LYRIC

1 Why is my heart with grief oppress?
Can all the pains I feel or fear
Make thee, my soul, forget thy rest,
Forget that God, thy God is near?

2 Mortality’s unnumber’d ills
Are all beneath his sov’reign hand;
Each pain, which this frail body feels,
Attends, obedient, his command.

3 Lord, form my temper to thy will!
If thou my faith and patience prove,
May ev’ry painful stroke fulfil
The purposes of faithful love!

4 O may this weak, this fainting mind
A Father’s hand adoring see;
Confess thee just, and wise, and kind,
And trust thy word, and cleave to thee!


Added by

Blessy Christlin

SHARE

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *