faith

Macedonia


Not from the dust afflictions grow,
Nor troubles rise by chance;
Yet we are born to cares and woe;
A sad inheritance!

As sparks break out from burning coals,
And still are upward borne,
So grief is rooted in our souls,
And man grows up to mourn.

Yet with my God I leave my cause,
And trust his promised grace;
He rules me by his well-known laws
Of love and righteousness.
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