William Cowper (1731–1800)

’Tis my happiness below

Not to live without the cross;

But the Saviour’s pow’r to know,

Sanctifying ev’ry loss:

Trials must and will befall;

But with humble faith to see

Love inscrib’d upon them all,

This is happiness to me.

God, in Israel, sows the seeds

Of affliction, pain, and toil;

These spring up and choke the weeds

Which would else o’erspread the soil:

Trials make the promise sweet,

Trials give new life to pray’r;

Trials bring me to his feet,

Lay me low, and keep me there.

Did I meet no trials here,

No chastisement by the way;

Might I not, with reason, fear

I should prove a cast-away:

Bastards may escape the rod,

Sunk in earthly, vain delight;

But the true-born child of God,

Must not, would not, if he might.