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184

’TIS PATIENCE MUST SUPPORT YOU.—HEB. X. 35-37.

Geduld ist euch vonnoeten

7,6,7,6,6,7,7,6

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’Tis patience must support you

When sorrow, grief, or smart,

Or whate’er else may hurt you,

Doth rend your aching heart.

Belov’d and chosen seed!

If not a death will kill you,

Yet once again I tell you,

’Tis patience that you need.

The cup of patience drinketh

With nausea flesh and blood,

Back from the cross it shrinketh;

When threaten’d with the rod,

It shuddereth with fear.

’Tis bold when nought assaileth,

Heart shrinks, and courage faileth,

When storms and rain are here.

Why patience causeth sadness,

Is that the carnal mind

Unclouded joy and gladness

In God aye hop’d to find,

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Though He hath made it clear,

He chastens whom He loveth,

And whom He much approveth,

He much afflicteth here.

God giveth patience ever,

The Spirit in the breast

Begetteth it whenever

Within us He doth rest;

The worthy, noble Guest

Preserves us from despairing,

And nerves for burden-bearing

The heart when sore distress’d.

From faith all patience springeth,

On God’s own word depends,

To this she firmly clingeth,

Herself with this defends.

’Tis her high tow’r and wall,

Where she securely hideth,

Where God for her provideth,

Here fears she ne’er a fall.

And patience trust reposeth

On Jesu’s death and pain;

When Satan her opposeth,

Here takes she heart again,

And saith, “Thou Prince of hell!

Thou never shalt devour me,

Too high I’m lifted o’er thee,

In Jesus do I dwell.”

Contented patience stayeth

On God’s decree all-wise;

Although His grace delayeth,

Scarce feels fatigue arise;

With trust she bears her load,

And joyfully endureth,

This thought her heart assureth,

It is the hand of God.

Long, long, can patience waiting

The weary time beguile,

On God’s word meditating

Get saving good the while.

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With earnest fervent pray’r,

Each morn and eve she guardeth

Herself from ill, and wardeth

Off Satan’s every snare.

To God’s will patience boweth,

Doth His command fulfil,

’Mid scorn of foes she knoweth

’Tis wisest to be still.

Who will, let him despise,

Unhurt by the dishonour

And shame thus put upon her,

Her heart doth o’er it rise.

To honour patience serveth

Her God, and never more

From love and fealty swerveth;

Although He smiteth sore,

Yet doth she ever praise

His holy hand, and telleth

That God on high who dwelleth,

Doth well in all his ways.

And patience life sustaineth,

Adds to our tale of years;

She drives away what paineth

The heart, and stills its fears.

It is a beauteous light

That giveth him who heedeth,

And whom God’s guidance leadeth,

A face with joy all bright.

Great joy from patience springeth,

The head a noble crown,

Gems for the neck she bringeth

From throne of Heaven down.

She wipes from weeping eyes

The tears of grief and anguish;

Whose souls with longing languish,

With ample good supplies.

My soul for patience sigheth,

My heart longs eagerly,

How urgently it crieth

And oft is known to Thee,

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Of grace who hast full store!

Lord, hear my supplication,

Give patient resignation;

I ask for nothing more.

For patience the petition

Shall often up to Thee,

From out my low condition,

Ascend, O Lord, from me.

And in my dying hour,

Thy mercy still extending,

Oh! grant a patient ending,

Then need I nothing more.

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