Afflictions do not come alone,A voice attends the rod;By both He to His saints is known,A Father and a God!
Let not My children slight the strokeI for chastisement send;Nor faint beneath My kind rebuke,For still I am their Friend.
The wicked I perhaps may leaveAwhile, and not reprove;But all the children I receiveI scourge, because I love.
If therefore you were left withoutThis needful discipline;You might, with cause, admit a doubt,If you, indeed, were Mine.
Shall earthly parents then expectTheir children to submit?And wilt not you, when I correct,Be humbled at My feet?
To please themselves they oft chastise,And put their sons to pain;But you are precious in My eyes,And shall not smart in vain.
I see your hearts, at present, filledWith grief, and deep distress;But soon these bitter seeds shall yieldThe fruits of righteousness.
Break through the clouds, dear Lord, and shine!Let us perceive Thee nigh!And to each mourning child of ThineThese gracious words apply.