1 Dear Lord, tho' bitter is the cup,
Thy gracious hand deals out to me,
I cheerfully will drink it up,
That cannot hurt which comes from thee.

2 Dash it with thine unchanging love,
Let not a drop of wrath be there;
The saints for ever bless'd above,
Were often most afflicted here.

3 From Jesus, thy incarnate Son,
I'll learn obedience to thy will;
And humbly kiss the chastening rod,
When its severest strokes I feel.