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The dear delights we here enjoy,
And fondly call our own,
Are but short favours borrowed now,
To be repaid anon.
‘Tis God that lifts our comforts high,
Or sinks them in the grave;
He gives, and, blessed be his name,
He takes but what he gave.
Peace all our angry passions then!
Let each rebellious sigh
Be silent at his sovereign will,
And ev’ry murmur die.
If smiling mercy crown our lives,
Its praises shall be spread;
And we’ll adore the justice too
That strikes our comforts dead.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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Job 1:21;
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1853 | # 514 |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
