Not from the dust affliction grows,
Nor troubles rise by chance;
Yet we are born to care and woes
A sad inheritance!
As sparks break out from burning coals,
And still are upward borne;
So grief is rooted in our souls,
And man grows up to mourn.
Yet with my God I leave my cause,
And trust His promised grace;
He rules me by His well known laws
Of love and righteousness.
Not all the pains that e'er I bore,
Shall spoil my future peace;
For death and hell can do no more
Than what the Father please.