Under Thy rod, O God, my God!
My soul would meekly bow,
E’en if ’tis nought that I have sought
Which brings me down so low;
For souls expand beneath Thy hand,
And while they suffer, grow.

Under thy rod, O God, my God!
I do not bow in vain,
For though I weep, I surely reap
Treasures of golden gain;
And every one Thou callest "son"
Must bear correction’s pain.

Under Thy rod, O God, my God!
Though sore the trial be,
I would not lose, if I might choose,
Thy look of love I see:
Father, I bless Thy faithfulness-
Proof of Thy love to me!