XLII. Quietness under Affliction a proper Acknowledgment of GOD.

PEACE, 'tis the LORD Jehovah's Hand,
That blasts our Joys in Death;
Changes the Visage once so dear,
And gathers back our Breath.

'Tis he, the Potentate supreme
Of all the Worlds above,
Whose steady Counsels wisely rule,
Nor from their Purpose move.

'Tis he, whose Justice might demand
Our Souls a Sacrifice;
Yet scatters with unwearied Hand
A thousand rich Supplies.

Our Cov'nant GOD and FATHER he
In CHRIST our bleeding LORD;
Whose Grace can heal the bursting Heart
With one reviving Word.

Fair Garlands of immortal Bliss
He weaves for ev'ry Brow;
And shall tumultuous Passions rise,
If he correct us now?

Silent I own Jehovah's Name;
I kiss thy scourging Hand;
And yield my Comforts, and my Life
To thy supreme Command.