Love’s Chastening Hand
It is good for me, Lord,
That Thou chastenest still,
For I wander so easily
Out of Thy will.
When paths are all sunshine,
And skies are all blue,
When those that I love
All prove steadfast and true,
I pause through the day
For a few words of prayer,
Petition for guidance,
Thanksgiving for care;
I read a few chapters–
Or perhaps a few lines
For I am so rushed
and so tired at times;
And I oft grow too busy
To sit at Thy feet,
To list to Thy voice,
And find fellowship sweet.
‘Tis then I grow careless,
Prayer loses its power,
And the sly adversary
My soul would devour.
Then Thy kind hand of love
Draws the sunshine away,
And storms of temptation,
Black clouds of dismay
Sweep madly upon me;
I bow in despair.
All earth seems against me;
Has God ceased to care?
As a child to its mother,
I flee to Thy breast;
There I pour out my heart
And find comfort and rest.
All vain phrases of prayer
And all ritual flee,
And my heart and my soul
Learn communion with Thee
And I rise up rejoicing
For trials, God-given,
That woo me from earth,
That bind me to heaven.