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,
While they 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 These mournful groans and flowing tears,
Give my poor spirit ease;
While ev'ry groan my Father hears,
And ev'ry tear he sees.

5 [How shall I glorify my God,
In bonds of grief confin'd?
Damp'd is my vigor, while this clod
Hangs heavy on my mind.]

6 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.