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,