“Greatly have they afflicted me from my youth”—let Israel now say.
Ps. cxxix. 1.
“From my youth they’ve oppressed,”
Let the church say in chorus.
“They have greatly distressed
But have not triumphed o’er us.
They have plowed on our back,
Bloody furrows endeavored,
But their traces and tack
God in righteousness severed.”
Yield you not to dismay
When affliction encroaches,
But rejoice that you may
Share the Savior’s reproaches,
For as Christ felt the rod,
He must also subject us,
Yet the troth of our God
Shall preserve and perfect us.
Could we count all the care
Of today’s tribulation,
‘Twere not fit to compare
With the promised salvation,
Which a curse-swollen earth
Stands on tiptoe to share it,
When she joins our rebirth
As we all things inherit.
May the foes of the blest
Be ashamed and confounded,
Be as grass on the crest
Of a roof gable grounded,
Which the sun’s healthy grace
Makes their depthless growth fail them,
With no baler’s embrace,
And no passers-by hail them:
Refrain—“May the Lord lift his face
Upon you and your labor!
May his peace and his grace
Shine upon you, O neighbor!”
—8/8/26. From Psalm 129. To “The Braes o’ Balquhidder.”
