1 Dear Lord, though bitter is the cup,
Thy gracious hand pours out to me,
I cheerfully will drink it up,
That cannot hurt which comes from thee.
2 'Tis filled with thine unchanging love,
And not a drop of wrath is there;
The saints for ever blessed above,
Were often most afflicted here.
3 From Jesus, thy incarnate Son,
I'll learn obedience to thy will;
And humbly kiss the chastening rod,
When its severest strokes I feel.
The Hartford Selection of Hymns from the most approved authors, 1799