Ere his will had been taught to his father’s to bow;
I have seen him subdued, and the frown leave his face,
And the smile of affection beam bright in its place;
And he loved his kind father, who guided the rod;
Then sure I must love thee, my Father! my God!
Thou hast taken my treasures, and stricken me sore,
Yet more do I love thee than ever before.
Heart broken and sorrowing, Father, to thee,
On the wings of affection this moment I’ll flee;
If thou wilt be mine, I will “count it all joy”