For He wounds, but He binds up; He smites, but His hands heal. Job 5:18
Words: Benjamin Beddome, 1778. Beddome wrote this hymn to accompany a sermon given (unknown to him at the time) the day his son died.
If you know where to get a good picture of Beddome (head & shoulders, at least 200×300 pixels),
My times of sorrow and of joy,
Great God, are in Thy hand;
My choicest comforts come from Thee,
And go at Thy command.
Oh Lord, shouldst Thou withhold them all,
Yet would I not repine;
Before they were by me possessed,
They were entirely Thine.
Nor would I drop a murmuring word,
Though the whole world were gone,
But seek enduring happiness,
In Thee, and Thee alone.
What is the world with all its store?
’Tis but a bitter sweet;
When I attempt to pluck the rose
A pricking thorn I meet.
Here perfect bliss can ne’er be found,
The honey’s mixed with gall;
Midst changing scenes and dying friends,
Be Thou my all in all.