Men point at me as smitten by God’s frown;
Afflicted and deserted of my kind:—
Yet am I not cast down.
I am weak, yet strong;
I murmur not that I no longer see;
Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong,
Father Supreme, to Thee!
O merciful One!
When men are farthest, then art Thou most near;
When friends pass by—my weaknesses to shun—