O why this disconsolate frame!

Though earthly enjoyments decay,

My Jesus is ever the same—

My Sun in the gloomiest day.

2 Though molten awhile in the fire,

’Tis only the gold to refine;

And be this my simple desire,

Though suffering, not to repine.

3 O what are the pleasures to me

Which earth in its fullness can boast?

Delusive, its vanities flee—

A flash of enjoyment at most.

4 And if my Redeemer could part,

For me, with his throne in the skies,

O why is so dear to my heart

What he in his wisdom denies?

5 Then let the rude tempest assail,

Let blasts of adversity blow,

The heavens, though distant, I hail,

Beyond this rough ocean of woe.

6 When safe on that beautiful strand,

I’d smile on the billows that foam;

Kind angels to hail me to land,

And Jesus to welcome me home.