Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those
Who meekly fear him here below;
On them he grace and fame bestows,
Nor loss, nor cross they e'er shall know.
Cast thou on him thy troubles all,
And he will thee with plenty feed;
He will not let the righteous fall,
Nor ever suffer them to need.
God says (of that advantage make)!
"Open thy mouth, I will
Pains in some honest calling take,
And all thy labours shall succeed.
Though lions, and their young beside,
Are oft distress'd for want of food;
Yet they, who in their God confide,
Shall never want for aught that's good.
God gives the sinful pagan food,
Supplies the Ethiopian's need,
His very foes he fills with good,
And shall he not his servants feed?
At too much riches never aim,
But be content with what is thine;
God never will those folks disclaim,
Who duly keep his laws divine.
Implore God's help in every ill,
He is the Giver of all good;
But should'st thou trust thy wit and skill,
Thou'lt lose the prize that by thee stood.
Full many a man still lives in need,
Because on God he ne'er rely'd;
Full many a one still begs his bread,
Who did in his own strength confide.
Since God is always to them kind,
Why do they die for want of aid?
Because they on their strength reclin'd,
And ne'er for his assistance pray'd.
God never knows the least repose,
But for his servants still prepares;
Whilst at our ease we sweetly doze,
He daily for his household cares.
Say, can a mother e'er forget
Her charge, her sucking babe neglect?
Should even maternal fondness set,
God will his servants recollect.
Ere thou shalt woe or want behold,
(If thou dost truly God obey)
He'll tell a fish to fetch thee gold,
Thy just expenses to defray.
Though, like the widow's meal, thy store
Should be but small--yet in a trice
(If thou dost strictly God adore)
He'll make that little store suffice.
Do not on thy own arm rely,
Thy strength or thy superior skill,
But on thy friend, the Lord most high!
If thou would'st be preserv'd from ill.
God feeds the warblers of the wood,
And clothes the lilies of the plain;
God gives to all things living food,
And will he not his sons sustain?
The ravens neither sow nor reap,
They have no barns to house their seed;
Yet God does even the ravens keep,
And them, through every season, feed.
Observe the lily, and the rose,
To toil and spin they ne'er were given;
Yet God on them a robe bestows,
More rich than monarch's vesture even.
On God, each living creature's eyes
Are fix'd--he, with a parent's care,
The wants of all the world supplies,
And gives to each its proper share.
He opes his bounteous hand full wide,
And feeds each animal that lives,
And ne'er leaves any unsupplied,
But to them all due measure gives.
He to the lion's cubs gives food,
To each fierce rambler of the wild,
To the black raven's glossy brood,
And shall he not to every child?
Thou dost not drop a single hair,
Without a providence divine;
No sparrow tumbles from the air,
Nought haps which God did not design.
Already has God's providence
To thee, breath, being, strength allow'd--
Health, knowledge, reason, memory, sense,
Will he not, think'st thou, give thee food?
Two sparrows, as they are so small,
Are purchas'd for a single mite;
Though little, yet God feeds them all,
Art thou less precious in his sight?
Though God, for all his creatures here
With a most lib'ral hand provides;
Yet is the soul of man more dear
To him, than all his works besides.
On God, thy cares and troubles lay--
For thee, he always is in pain;
If Christ thou truly dost obey,
A sure reward thou shalt obtain.