Cast thou on him thy troubles all,
And he will thee with plenty feed;
He will not let the righteous fall,
Nor ever suffer them to need.
God says (of that advantage make)!
“Open thy mouth, I will thee feed;”
Pains in some honest calling take,
And all thy labours shall succeed.
Though lions, and their young beside,
Are oft distress’d for want of food;
Yet they, who in their God confide,
Shall never want for aught that’s good.
God gives the sinful pagan food,
Supplies the Ethiopian’s need,
His very foes he fills with good,
And shall he not his servants feed?
At too much riches never aim,
But be content with what is thine;
God never will those folks disclaim,
Who duly keep his laws divine.
Implore God’s help in every ill,
He is the Giver of all good;
But should’st thou trust thy wit and skill,
Thou’lt lose the prize that by thee stood.
Full many a man still lives in need,
Because on God he ne’er rely’d;
Full many a one still begs his bread,
Who did in his own strength confide.
Since God is always to them kind,
Why do they die for want of aid?
Because they on their strength reclin’d,
And ne’er for his assistance pray’d.
God never knows the least repose,
But for his servants still prepares;
Whilst at our ease we sweetly doze,
He daily for his household cares.
Say, can a mother e’er forget
Her charge, her sucking babe neglect?
Should even maternal fondness set,
God will his servants recollect.