These like the early dew.
Lord, grant me grace for every day,
Whate’er my state may be;
Through life, in death, with truth to say,
“My God is all to me!”
J. Montgomery.
Come then, Affliction, if my Father bids,
And be my frowning friend: a friend that frowns,
Is better than a smiling enemy.
We welcome clouds that bring the former rain,