On the Death of Thomas Beard, Hymn 7

O My tender-hearted Lord,
How shall I Thy grace commend!
True I find Thee to Thy word,
Thee I find the widow's Friend;
Nearest in our greatest need,
Present at Thy mourner's call,
Thou, O God, art Love indeed,
Thou, O Christ, art all in all.

Of my earthly all bereaved,
Thou hast call'd, and look'd on me,
Me, alas, in spirit grieved,
Me o'erwhelm'd with misery,
By my other self forsook,
Poor, disconsolate, distress'd,
Thou into Thine arms hast took,
Made me on Thy bosom rest.

Shall I then my state bemoan,
Mournful state of widowhood?
Can I call myself alone,
Happy, happy in my God!
Long with stormy troubles toss'd,
I have now my port obtain'd,
Have an earthly husband lost,
Have an heavenly Husband gain'd.

Join'd to me my Maker is,
With me still my Lord shall stay,
Keep the covenant of peace,
Peace, which none can take away:
Never shall Thy truth depart,
Never shall Thy grace remove,
Thou hast clasp'd me to Thine heart,
Loved with an eternal love,