Sick-Bed Devotion; or, Pleading Without Repining

Verse 1

God of my life, look gently down, Behold the pains I feel; But I am dumb before thy throne, Nor dare dispute thy will.

Verse 2

Diseases are thy servants, Lord, They come at thy command; I'll not attempt a murmuring word Against thy chastening hand.

Verse 3

Yet I may plead with humble cries, Remove thy sharp rebukes; My strength consumes, my spirit dies, Through thy repeated strokes.

Verse 4

Crush'd as a moth beneath thy hand, We moulder to the dust; Our feeble powers can ne'er withstand, And all our beauty's lost.

Verse 5

I'm but a sojourner below, As all my fathers were, May I be well prepar'd to go When I the summons hear.

Verse 6

But if my life be spar'd a while, Before my last remove, Thy praise shall be my business still, And I'll declare thy love.