VI. COMPLAINT AND HOPE UNDER GREAT PAIN. 1736.
I
Lord, I am pain'd; but I resign
To thy superior will:
'Tis grace, 'tis wisdom all divine,
Appoints the pains I feel.
II
Dark are thy ways of providence,
While those that love thee groan:
Thy reasons lie conceal'd from sense,
Mysterious and unknown.
III
Yet nature may have leave to speak,
And plead before her God,
Lest the o'er-burden'd heart should break
Beneath thy heavy rod.
IV
Will nothing but such daily pain
Secure my soul from hell?
Canst thou not make my health attain
Thy kind designs as well?
V
How shall my tongue proclaim thy grace
While thus at home confin'd?
What can I write, while painful flesh
Hangs heavy on the mind?
VI
These groans and sighs and flowing tears
Give my poor spirit ease,
While every groan my Father hears,
And every tear he sees.
VII
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.
