Amidst the mighty, where is he

who saith, and it is done?

Each varying scene of changeful life

is from the Lord alone.

He gives in gladsome bow’rs to dwell,

or clothes in sorrow’s shroud;

His hand hath formed the light, his hand

hath formed the dark’ning cloud.

Why should a living man complain

beneath the chast’ning rod?

Our sins afflict us; and the cross

must bring us back to God.

O sons of men! with anxious care

your hearts and ways explore;

Return from paths of vice to God:

return, and sin no more!