Men point at me as smitten by God’s frown;
Afflicted, and deserted of my kind,
Yet I am 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 thou art most near;
When friends pass by, my weaknesses to shun,