If to Jesus for relief

My soul has fled by prayer;

Why should I give way to grief,

Or heart–consuming care?

Are not all things in his hand?

Has he not his promise past?

Will he then regardless stand

And let me sink at last?

While I know his providence

Disposes each event;

Shall I judge by feeble sense,

And yield to discontent?

If he worms and sparrows feed,

Clothe the grass in rich array;

Can he see a child in need,

And turn his eye away?

When his name was quite unknown,

And sin my life employed;

Then he watched me as his own,

Or I had been destroyed:

Now his mercy–seat I know,

Now by grace am reconciled;

Would he spare me while a foe,

To leave me when a child?

If he all my wants supplied

When I disdained to pray;

Now his Spirit is my guide,

How can he say me nay?

If he would not give me up,

When my soul against him fought;

Will he disappoint the hope,

Which he himself has wrought?

If he shed his precious blood

To bring me to his fold;

Can I think that meaner good

He ever will withhold?

Satan, vain is thy device!

Here my hope rests well–assured,

In that great redemption–price,

I see the whole secured.