Afflictions do not come alone,
A voice attends the rod;
By both He to His saints is known,
A Father and a God!
Let not My children slight the stroke
I for chastisement send;
Nor faint beneath My kind rebuke,
For still I am their Friend.
The wicked I perhaps may leave
Awhile, and not reprove;
But all the children I receive
I scourge, because I love.
If therefore you were left without
This needful discipline;
You might, with cause, admit a doubt,
If you, indeed, were Mine.
Shall earthly parents then expect
Their children to submit?
And wilt not you, when I correct,
Be humbled at My feet?
To please themselves they oft chastise,
And put their sons to pain;
But you are precious in My eyes,
And shall not smart in vain.
I see your hearts, at present, filled
With grief, and deep distress;
But soon these bitter seeds shall yield
The fruits of righteousness.
Break through the clouds, dear Lord, and shine!
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