Second Sunday in Lent

Though Thou slay me, I will trust,
Thou art God, but I am dust;
Though Thou grieve, Thy grace I'll prove,
I am loveless. Thou art love.

Though Thou seem to turn away,
I will nearer to Thee stay;
Though Thy silence wound me sore,
I will weary Thee the more.

Though Thy face I cannot see.
Well I know 'tis turn'd to me;
Though the cloud exclude its light,
Well I know its beams are bright.

Though the children's bread denied.
Still I linger by Thy side;
Though Thy fulness Thou refuse.
Still Sie crumbs I may not lose.

Any sorrow I can bear.
Save the sorrow of despair,
Anything Thou ask'st resign,
Save the bliss of being Thine.

Nothing that mine eyes can see
Shall disturb my Faith in Thee;
Love to trust can well afford.
Wait the leisure of the Lord!