Whoever dies, the Lord remains with his people. Let us not be in despair, though the best of our friends or the ablest of our ministers be taken from us.
When good old Jacob blest the seed,
From Joseph’s loins that came,
He cross’d his withered hands, ‘tis said,
And God has done the same.
Crosses each day with trials hot,
The Christian’s path has been;
And who has found a happy lot
Without a cross between?
Not so, my father,” oft we say,
This pain, this grief remove;
Too blind to fathom wisdom’s way,
Or think ‘tis sent in love.