Classic Poem

Why is my heart with grief opprest?
Can all the pains I feel or fear,
Make thee, my soul, forget thy rest,
Forget that God, thy God is near?

Hast thou not often call'd the Lord
Thy refuge, thy almighty friend?
And canst thou fear to trust that word
On which thy hopes of heaven depend?

Mortality's unnumber'd ills
Are all beneath his sovereign hand;
Each pain which this frail body feels
Attends, obedient, his command.

Lord, form my temper to thy will?
If thou my faith and patience prove,
May every painful stroke fulfill
Thy purposes of faithful love.

O may this weak, this fainting mind,
A father's hand adoring see;
Confess thee just, and wise, and kind,
And trust thy word and cleave to thee.