1

What e'er, all-clement God,
Thy justice shall ordain;
I'll bow, submissive to thy rod,
And never will complain.

2

Though ills, successive fall,
On my devoted head,
With patient heart, I'll bear them all,
And to thy mercy plead

3

For well, I know, the cause
Of thy consuming wrath;
Too long I've disobey'd thy laws,
I've merited my death.

4

I know, whate'er I feel,
The Saviour suffer'd more;
And man's distempered heart to heal,
Severest tortures bore.

5

Hear this! my soul, thou'lt say,
Since God's such tender love,
I'll bear life's sorrows as I may,
My gratitude to prove.