You Who Are Touched With Feeling of Our Woes
Words by Octavius Winslow
Music from Finlandia, by Jean Sibelius

You! who are touched with feeling of our woes,
Let me on you my heavy burden cast!
My aching, anguished heart on you repose,
Leaving with you the sad mysterious past;
Let me submissive bow, and kiss the rod;
Let me 'be still and know that you are God.'

Why should my harassed, agitated mind
Go round and round this terrible event
Striving in vain some brighter side to find,
Some cause why all this anguish has been sent?
Do I, indeed, that sacred truth believe,
You do not willingly afflict and grieve?

Infinite Wisdom! can it ever err?
Infinite love! can it to us work ill?
Good, only good, do you, my God, confer,
Though it to me, alas! seem evil still:
Oh! let not finite, frail, presumptuous man
Your acts arraign—Your hidden purpose scan.

Oh! pity me, all crushed beneath the blow,
Thus weeping [in] this sad mysterious blight;
My garden's richest, fairest plant laid low,
Gemmed with its dewy blossoms sparkling bright;
Just when its roseate blooms were set for fruit,
Stricken and shattered at the very root.

There are none like it left, and earth appears
So stripped, so desolate, without its charms,
A barren waste, a mournful [vale] of tears,
That, were I not supported by Your arms,
My pitying Savior! this poor heart would break!
Oh! shield—oh! comfort for Your mercy's sake.

My lovely gourd is withered in an hour!
I droop, I faint, beneath the scorching sun.
My Shepherd, lead me to some sheltering bower,
There, where your little flock 'lie down at noon;'
Though of my dearest earthly joy bereft,
[My portion still]—You, You, my God, are left!

*Brackets indicate where words have been substituted for better rhythm.

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