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CHASTENING

It is Thy hand, my God!

My sorrow comes from Thee:

I bow beneath Thy chast’ning rod;

‘Tis love that bruises me.

I would not murmur, Lord:

Before Thee I am dumb;

Lest I should breathe one murmuring word,

To Thee for help I come.

My God – Thy name is love

A Father’s hand is Thine;

With tearful eyes I look above,

And cry “Thy will be mine!”

I know Thy will is right,

Though it may seem severe;

Thy path is still unsullied light,

Though dark it oft appear.

Jesus for me hath died;

Thy Son Thou didst not spare:

His pierced hands, His bleeding side,

Thy love for me declare.

Here my poor heart can rest;

My God, it cleaves to Thee:

Thy will is love, Thine end is blest;

All work for good to me.

From ‘Hymns and Sacred Poems’, 1889, J.G. Deck

Edited and Published by John A Brown

36 Laverock Park, Linlithgow EH49 6AT UK Tel 01506 670 437

Printed by Crystal Print, 22 Western Road, Billericay, Essex CM12 9DZ Tel: 01277 650 661

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