Wednesday, September 17, 2008

On His kind providence

Not from the dust affliction grows,
Nor troubles rise by chance;
Yet we are born to cares and woes--
A sad inheritance!

As sparks break out from burning coals,
And still are upwards borne,
So grief is rooted in our souls,
And man grows up to mourn.

Yet with my God I leave my cause
And trust his promised grace;
He rules me by his well-known laws
Of love and righteousness.

Not all the pains that e'er I bore
Shall spoil my future peace;
For death and hell can do no more
Than what my Father please.

Gadsby #465, Isaac Watts
Job 5:6-8 "Although affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground; Yet man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward. I would seek unto God, and unto God would I commit my cause:"

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