God of My Life, Look Gently Down

God of my life

look gent­ly down

Behold the pains I feel;

But I am dumb be­fore Thy throne

Nor dare dis­pute Thy will.

Diseases are Thy serv­ants

Lord

They come at Thy com­mand;

I’ll not at­tempt a mur­mur­ing word

Against Thy chast­en­ing hand.

Yet I may plead with hum­ble cries

Remove Thy sharp re­bukes;

My strength con­sumes

my spir­it dies

Through Thy re­peat­ed strokes.

Crushed as a moth be­neath Thy hand

We mol­der to the dust;

Our fee­ble pow­ers can ne’er with­stand

And all our beau­ty’s lost.

This mor­tal life de­cays apace

How soon the bub­ble’s broke!

Adam and all his nu­mer­ous race

Are van­ity and smoke.

I’m but a so­journ­er be­low

As all my fa­thers were;

May I be well pre­pared to go

When I the sum­mons hear!

But if my life be spared a while

Before my last re­move

Thy praise shall be my bu­si­ness still

And I’ll de­clare Thy love.