1 When I can trust my all with God,
In trial's fearful hour,
Bow, all resigned, beneath His rod,
And bless His sparing power,
A joy springs up amid distress,
A fountain in the wilderness.
2 O, to be brought to Jesus' feet,
Though sorrows fix me there,
Is still a privilege; and sweet
The energies of prayer,
Though sighs and tears its language be,
If Christ be nigh, and smile on me.
3 Then blesséd be the Hand that gave,
Still blesséd when it takes:
Blesséd be He who smites to save,
Who heals the heart He breaks:
Perfect and true are all His ways,
Whom heaven adores and death obeys.
Source: Church Book: for the use of Evangelical Lutheran congregations #484