On the Loss of His Emends, Hymn 2

Glory to the awful God!
Object of Thy kindest care,
Thankful I adore Thy rod,
Bless Thee for the griefs I bear,
Griefs which all my steps attend,
Hasten on the joyful end.

O how wonderful Thy love,
Most benign, when most severe!
All Thy rivals to remove,
All my hopes of comfort here,
Forcing me to feel, and see,
All on earth is vanity.

Long as in the vale I live,
Calmly in the vale I mourn,
Thankfully my lot receive,
Till I to Thy arms return;
Harden'd in my grief, till I
Sink into Thy arms, and die.

Till that welcome hour I see,
Brood I o'er my hoarded grief,
Hug my sacred misery,
Wretched above all relief,
Smile I with superior pain,
Earth, and all its joys disdain.

What a mighty blessing this!
Peace on earth I cannot know,
Cannot taste a moment's bliss,
Stripp'd of all I prized below;
Shall I of my loss complain?
Only heaven is greater gain.