What though the dark close round, the storm increase,
Though friends depart, all earthly comforts cease;
Hath He not said, I give my children peace?
Believe his word.
Complain of Naught
To murmur, fret, repine, lament, bemoan—
How sinful, stupid, wrong! God's on the throne,
Does all in wisdom, ne'er forgets his own.
Be filled with praise.