“My Times Are in Thy Hand”
My times are in thy hand!
I know not what a day,
Or e'en an hour, may bring to me;
But I am safe while trusting thee,
Though all things fade away.
All weakness, I
On him rely
Who fixed the earth and spread the
starry sky. My times are in thy hand!
Pale poverty or wealth,
Corroding care or calm repose,
Spring’s balmy breath or winter’s snows,
Sickness or buoyant health—
Whate’er betide,
If God provide,
’Tis for the best; I wish no lot beside. My times are in thy hand!
Should friendship pure illumine
And strew my path with fairest flowers,
Or should I spend life’s dreary hours
In solitude’s dark gloom,
Thou art a friend
Till time shall end,
Unchangeably the same; in thee all beauties blend. My times are in thy hand!
Many or few my days,
I leave with thee—this only pray,
That by thy grace I, every day
Devoting to thy praise,
May ready be
To welcome thee
Whene’er thou com’st in clouds to
summon me. My times are in thy hand!
To thee I can entrust
My slumbering clay, till thy command
Bids all the dead before thee stand,
Awakening from the dust.
Beholding thee,
What bliss ’twill be
With all thy saints to spend eternity! To spend eternity
In heaven’s unclouded light!
From sorrow, sin, and frailty free,
Beholding and resembling thee—
O too transporting sight!
Prospect too fair
For flesh to bear!
Haste, haste, my Lord, and soon transport me there!