Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above. James 1:17
O King of Grief! (how strange and true
The name, to Jesus only due!)
How, Savior, shall I grieve for Thee?
Who in all griefs preventest me.
Then let me vie with Thee in love,
And try who there shall conqueror prove,
Giv’st Thou me wealth? I will restore
All back unto Thee by the poor.
Giv’st Thou me honor? All shall see
The honor doth belong to Thee:
A bosom-friend? If false he prove
To Thee, I will tear thence his love.
Thee shall my music find: each string
Shall have his attribute to sing;
And every note accord in Thee,
To prove one God, one harmony.
Giv’st Thou me knowledge? It shall still
Search out Thy ways, Thy works, Thy will:
Yea, I will search Thy Book, nor move
Till I have found therein Thy love.
Thy love I will turn back on Thee:
O my dear Savior, victory!
Then for Thy passion, I for that
Will do—alas, I know not what!