1 My times of sorrow and of joy,
Great God, are in thy hand;
My choicest comforts come from thee,
And go at thy command.

2 If thou should'st take them all away,
Yet would I not repine;
Before they were possess'd by me,
They were entirely thine.

3 Now would I drop a murm'ring word,
Tho' the whole world were gone,
But seek enduring happiness
In thee, and thee alone.

4 What is the world with all its store?
'Tis a deceitful cheat;
When I attempt to pluck the rose,
A piercing thorn I meet.

5 Here perfect bliss can ne'er be found,
The honey's mix'd with gall;
Midst changing scenes and dying friends,
Be thou my all in all.