A Psalm for a Person Under Affliction

Tho' ling'ring illness, pain, and grief, Attend me here below; God can in all give sure relief, And soften every woe.

Tho' call'd the loss of friends to mourn, Afflicted day and night; I'll cry, O Lord, thy will be done, And say of all, 'Tis right.

God will in trouble be my friend, And best physician prove; And take me when this life shall end, To dwell with him above.

Then come disorders soon or late, I'll only patience crave; And trusting in my saviour wait, For bliss beyond the grave.

What's life, with all our joys below, To finite creatures given? What's all the pleasures mortals know, To endless joys in heaven?

In Christ alone I would rely, On him I'll daily call; I'm his for life, and when I die, He'll be my heav'n and all!