Could the crea­tures help or ease us
Seldom should we think of pray­er;
Few, if any, come to Je­sus
Till re­duced to self des­pair;
Long we ei­ther slight or doubt Him,
But when all the means we try
Prove we can­not do without Him,
Then at last to Him we cry.

Thus the rul­er when his daugh­ter
Suffered much, though Christ was nigh,
Still de­ferred it, till he thought her
At the ve­ry point to die;
Though he mourned for her con­di­tion,
He did not en­treat the Lord,
Till he found that no phy­si­cian
But Him­self, could help af­ford.

Jesus did not once up­braid him,
That he had no soon­er come;
But a gra­cious an­swer made him,
And went straight­way with him home;
Yet his faith was put to tri­al
When his ser­vants came and said,
Though he gave thee no de­ni­al,
’Tis too late—the child is dead.

Jesus, to prevent his griev­ing,
Kindly spoke and eased his pain;
Be not fear­ful, but be­liev­ing,
Thou shalt see her live again;
When He found the peo­ple weep­ing,
Cease, He said, no long­er mourn;
For she is not dead, but sleep­ing;
Then they laughed Him to scorn.

O Thou meek and lowly Sav­ior,
How de­ter­mined is Thy love!
Not this rude, un­kind be­hav­ior,
Could Thy gra­cious pur­pose move;
Soon as He the room had en­tered,
Spoke, and took her by the hand;
Death at once his prey sur­ren­dered,
And she lived at His com­mand.

Fear not then, dis­tressed be­liev­er,
Venture on His migh­ty name;
He is able to de­li­ver,
And His love is still the same;
Can His pi­ty or His pow­er
Suffer thee to pray in vain?
Wait but His ap­point­ed hour,
And thy suit thou shalt ob­tain.