Ninth Sunday after Trinity

God of Truth! tho' Thy hand
Oft doth try me,
God of love! Thou dost stand
Ever nigh me.

Not a pang Thou dost send
But to prove me.
And draw near to the Friend
Who doth love me.

In Thine arm's sweet constraint
Thou dost hold me,
To Thy heart, when I faint,
Thou dost fold me.

When T fret at some pain,
Thou dost teach me
How, thro' grief, every gain
Best can reach me.

When my strength, all decay'd,
Cannot bear it,
Thou dost come to mine aid
And dost share it.

Thro' the struggle and strife
Thou dost lead me,
With the bread of Thy life
Thou dost feed me:

And thus drawing to Thee
Daily nearer,
Thy Love is to me
Daily dearer:

And I would not exchange
Even sadness,
For all the free range
Of life's gladness;

With the fear, that in joy,
I might let Thee
My heart less employ,
Or forget Thee.

I ask not for grief,
But still grieve me.
If Thy only relief
Be, to leave me.

Better far, round about
Me Thy sorrow,
Than to joy wake without
Thee, to-morrow.

For no hand but Thine own
Safely frees us,
One escape, one alone,
'Tis in Jesus!