By Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
Praise Him who sendeth joy and woe.
The Lord who takes — the Lord who gives —
O praise him, all that dies, and lives.
He opens and he shuts his hand,
But why, we cannot understand.
Pours and dries up his mercies’ flood,
And yet is still All-perfect Good.
And when, the tempest passing by,
He gleams out, sun-like, through our sky.
We look up and, through black clouds riven,
We recognize the smile of Heaven.
Ours is no wisdom of the wise.
We have no deep philosophies;
Childlike we take both kiss and rod,
For he who loveth knoweth God.