A SONG OF SOLACE | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 24, 1878

A SONG OF SOLACE.

Thou sweet hand of God, that so woundest my heart, Thou makest me smile while thou mak’st me to smart, It seems as if God were at ball-play, and I, The harder he strikes me, the higher I fly,

I own it—he bruises, he pierces me sore; But the hammer and chisel afflict me no more. Shall I tell you the reason? It is that I see, The Sculptor will carve out an angel for me.

I shrink from no suffering, how painful so-e’er, When once I can feel that God’s guidance is there; For soft on the anvil the iron shall glow, When the smith, with his hammer, deals blow upon blow.

God presses me hard, but he gives patience too; And I say to myself, “’Tis no more than my due.” And no tone from the organ can swell on the breeze Till the organist’s fingers press down on the keys.

So come, then, and welcome the blow and the pain! Without them no mortal can Heaven attain; For what can the sheaves on the barn-floor avail, Till the thresher shall beat out the chaff with his flail?

’Tis only a moment God chastens with pain; Joy follows on sorrow, like sunshine on rain. Then bear thou what God on thy spirit shall lay; Be dumb, but when tempted to murmur—then pray.

—From the German.