AFFLICTION’S sweet when we can trace,
In every pang, the God of grace;
In every sorrow see His love,
Receive each stroke from God above:
Our Father He delights to skew,
How rich the mercies from Him flow.
Affliction’s sweet when we can say,
Though only in a feeble war,
“Lord, at Thy feet I love to lie,
“O guide my heart by Thine own eye,
“And let not any thought lurk there
“That cannot be expressed in prayer!”
Affliction’s sweet, though it come near―
Even to rend from those most dear, ―
While we, by faith, can humbly trace
The smiles of our Beloved’s face,
And hear Him say, “It is Thy God
Who uses thus His chast’ning rod.”
Affliction’s sweet, when, by His grace,
We every circumstance can place
In God our Father’s hand, and see
He knoweth better far than we,
How to correct our wayward hearts,
In faithful love, though causing smarts.
Affliction’s sweet―yea, very sweet,
When we can say, “‘Tis more than meet
That we should lay self-glory down,
Low at Thy Cross,”―as there ‘tis shown
How great the Father, Spirit, Son!
Complete apart! complete in One!