On the Death of Thomas Beard, Hymn 2

Let heathens murmur and complain,
I rest me here, it is the Lord
Calls for my heart's desire again;
His will be done, His name adored!

Who first the precious blessing lent,
He justly hath resumed His own,
I yield him back with full consent:
Thy name be praised, Thy will be done.

Thy mercy in the stroke I see,
Enter into my God's design,
From every fond engagement free,
Thou wouldst my heart should all be Thine.

Thou wouldst that I from man should cease,
Thou hast my earthly lord removed,
That all my soul might Thee confess
My only, as my best beloved.

Thy will I cheerfully obey,
From every creature-good retreat;
And desolate delight to stay
An happy mourner at Thy feet.

Devoted to my God below,
My all of bliss in Thee I have,
No other love resolved to know,
No other bride-bed but the grave.