Consider all my sor­rows, Lord,
And Thy de­liv­er­ance send;
My soul for Thy sal­va­tion faints,
When will my trou­bles end?

Yet I have found, ’tis good for me
To bear my Fa­ther’s rod;
Afflictions make me learn Thy law,
And live up­on my God.

This is the com­fort I enjoy
When new dis­tress be­gins,
I read Thy Word, I run Thy way,
And hate my for­mer sins.

Had not Thy Word been my de­light
When earth­ly joys were fled,
My soul, op­pressed with sor­row’s weight,
Had sunk amongst the dead.

I know Thy judg­ments, Lord, are right,
Tho’ they may seem se­vere;
The sharp­est suf­fer­ings I en­dure
Flow from Thy faith­ful care.

Before I knew Thy chas­ten­ing rod
My feet were apt to stray;
But now I learn to keep Thy Word
Nor wan­der from Thy way.