Seems it in my anguish lone

Seems it in my anguish lone,
As though God forsook His own,
Yet I hold this knowledge fast,
God will surely help at last.

Though awhile it be delay'd,
He denieth not His aid;
Though it come not oft with speed,
It will surely come at need.

As a father not too soon
Grants his child the long'd-for boon,
So our God gives when He will;
Wait His leisure and be still.

I can rest in thoughts of Him,
When all courage else grows dim,
For I know my soul shall prove
His is more than father's love.

Would the powers of ill affright,
I can smile at all their might;
Or the cross be pressing sore,
God, my God, lives evermore!

Man may hate me causelessly,
Man may plot to ruin me,
Foes my heart may pierce and rend;
God in heaven is still my Friend.

Earth may all her gifts deny,
Safe my treasure still on high,
And if heaven at last be mine,
All things else I can resign.

I renounce thee willingly,
World, I hate what pleases thee,
Baneful every gift of thine,
Only be my God still mine.

Ah Lord, if but Thee I have,
Nought of other good I crave,
Bright is even death's dark road,
If but Thou art there, my God.

The Chorale Book for England, 1863