Not from the dust affliction grows,
Nor troubles rise by chance;
Yet we are born to cares and woes;
A sad inheritance!
As sparks break out from burning coals,
And still are upwards borne
So grief is rooted in our souls,
And man grows lip to mourn.
Yet with my God I leave my cause,
And trust his promised grace;
He rules me by his well-known laws
Of love and righteousness.
Not all the pains that e'er I bore
Shall spoil my future peace,
For death and hell can do no more
Than what my Father please.
Not from the dust affliction grows. I. Watts. [Affliction of God.] Published in his Hymns, &c, 1709, Bk. i., No. 83, in 4 stanzas of 4 lines, and from thence has passed into a few hymnals. In the Translations and Paraphrases of the Church of Scotland, which were authorized in 1781, this hymn (No. 5) is included in a new form as, “Tho' trouble springs not from the dust." In this form Watts is reproduced in everything but the actual words. By whom this recast was made is not known. In the marked copy of the Translations & Paraphrases, by the daughter of W. Cameron it is left a blank.
--John Julian, Dictionary of Hymnology (1907)