Let me submissive bow and kiss the rod;
Let me "be still, and know that thou art God."
Why should my harassed agitated mind
Go round and round this terrible event?
Striving in vain some brighter side to find,
Some cause why all this anguish has been sent?
Do I indeed that sacred truth believe—
Thou dost not willingly afflict and grieve?
My lovely gourd is withered in an hour!
I droop, I faint beneath the scorching sun;