The love of God is manifold,
And malleable as beaten gold.
The varied are the forms it takes,
Like gold, it bends but never breaks.
We tremble at the frown divine,
Forgetting it is love's sure sign.
God's punishment ne'er worketh ill;
His wrath doth but His love fulfil.
Whate'er affliction we deplore,
Whatever trial irks us sore,
If we but deeper trace, we'll find
Hath roots of love about it twined.
God's love is faithful first and last;
No arms but love's are 'round us cast
Yea, we shall know before the Throne
That love rules life, and love alone.