Ver. 67 59. 1 Father, I bless thy gentle hand; How kind was thy chastising rod, That forc'd my conscience to a stand, And brought my wandering soul to God!
2 Foolish and vain I went astray Ere I had felt thy scourges, Lord, I left my guide, and lost my way; But now I love and keep thy word.
Ver. 71. 3 'Tis good for me to wear the yoke, For pride is apt to rise and swell; 'Tis good to bear my Father's stroke, That I might learn his statutes well.
Ver. 72. 4 The law that issues from thy mouth Shall raise my cheerful passions more Than all the treasures of the south, Or western hills of golden ore.
Ver. 73. 5 Thy hands have made my mortal frame, Thy spirit form'd my soul within; Teach me to know thy wondrous Name, And guard me safe from death and sin.
Ver. 74. 6 Then all that love and fear the Lord At my salvation shall rejoice; For I have hoped in thy word, And made thy grace my only choice.