My Jesus is ever the same—
My Sun in the gloomiest day.
2 Though molten awhile in the fire,
’Tis only the gold to refine;
And be this my simple desire,
Though suffering, not to repine.
3 O what are the pleasures to me
Which earth in its fullness can boast?
Delusive, its vanities flee—
A flash of enjoyment at most.