In Jesus my King.

VI.

With horrible din
Afflictions may swell,--
They cleanse me from sin,
They save me from hell:
They're all but the rod
Of Jesus, in love;
They lead me to God
And blessings above.

VII.

Through sickness and pain
I flee to my Lord,
Sweet comfort to gain,
And health from His word;
Bleak scarcities raise
A keener desire,
To feed on His grace,
And wear His attire.

VIII.

The trials which frown,
Applied by His blood,
But plait me a crown,
And work for my good.