Does the Lord afflict His chosen?
’Tis to draw them nearer home;
Many are the wiles that lure them
From their Father’s house to roam.
Listen to His loving whisper,
Weary soul, come unto Me;
Listen to His louder summons,
Still ’tis love that calleth thee.
Whom God loveth He chastiseth,
Grinds his idols into dust;
Turns earth’s pleasures into ashes,
Shows how vain in them to trust.
All His raging waves and billows
O’er thee now may wildly roll,
Yet He surely will deliver
Every humble, contrite soul.
He will ne’er forsake nor leave us,
He’ll complete the work begun,
We will trust Him, ever trust Him,
Till we hear His glad