1 'Tis wisdom, mercy, love divine,
Which mingles blessings with our cares;
And shall our thankless heart repine
That we obtain not all our prayers?
2 From diffidence our sorrows flow,
Short-sighted mortals, weak and blind,
Bend down their eyes to earth and wo,
And doubt if providence be kind.
3 Should heaven with every wish comply,
Say, would the grant relieve the care?
Perhaps the good for which we sigh,
Might change it's name and prove a snare.
4 Were once our vain desires subdu'd,
The will resign'd, the heart at rest;
In every scene we should conclude,
The will of heaven is right, is best.
Source: A Collection of Hymns and Prayers, for Public and Private Worship #38