Lord, when Thy chastenings come, And desolate their home, Then how can any feel That these Thy love reveal? Did not His giving prove Our Father's tender love? Then wherefore should we say His love doth take away? Why should His love delight The trusting heart to smite? And why, if smite He must, Shall any longer trust? Be still, complaining soul; On Him thy burden roll; Thy faithful friend is He, Who still life's end can see. God's giving surely shows That tender love He knows; But love that gives us breath As tenderly gives death. Is His example vain Who lost that we might gain? Then how shall we refuse At His command to lose? But cast thine eyes about; A little look without, And see how any fare Who not thy losses share. Note how they cling to earth; Regard their selfish mirth; Not one of them for thee Affordeth sympathy. Heaven's gifts they take, and yet The Hand that gives forget; And find, till life grows sere, Their satisfaction here. Earth's pleasures having tried, And being satisfied, The joys beyond the grave They never learn to crave. But thou, since earthly gain With thee doth not remain, Art taught thereby to prize The riches of the skies. Then learn, fond, foolish heart, To bear affliction's smart; For whom He chasteneth God loveth as He saith. |