It is thy hand, my God
1
It is thy hand, my God;My sorrow comes from thee:I bow beneath thy chastening rod;'Tis love that bruises me.
2
I would not murmur, Lord;Before thee I am dumb:Lest I should breathe one murmuring word,To thee for help I come.
3
My God, thy name is love;A Father's hand is thine;With tearful eyes I look above,And cry, "Thy will be mine!"