Verse 1
Afflicted by a gracious God,
The stroke I patiently sustain,
Grievous to feeble flesh and blood;
Unable to rejoice in pain,
Beneath a Father’s hand I bow,
And groan to feel the chastening now.

Verse 2
But when he hath my patience prov’d,
And sees me to his will resign’d,
His heavy hand and rod remov’d
Shall leave its blest effects behind,
The sure, inviolable peace,
The fruit of finish’d righteousness.

Verse 3
This pain, this consecrated pain,
With which my soul and flesh are fill’d,
His instrument if he ordain,
The pure and perfect love shall yield;
But by whatever means ’tis done,
The work, and praise is all his own.