’Tis my happiness below

Not to live without the cross;

But the Savior’s pow’r to know,

Sanctifying every loss:

Trials must and will befall;

But with humble faith to see

Love inscribed upon them all,

This is happiness to me.

God, in Israel, sows the seeds

Of affliction, pain, and toil;

These spring up, and choke the weeds

Which would else o’erspread the soil:

Trials make the promise sweet,

Trials give hew life to prayer;

Trials bring me to his feet,

Lay me low, and keep me there.

Did I meet no trials here,

No chastisement by the way;

Might I not, with reason, fear

I should prove a cast–away:

Bastards may escape the rod,

Sunk in earthly, vain delight;

But the true–born child of GOD,

Must not, would not, if he might.