LET not God’s praises grow On prosperous heights alone, But in the vales below Let His great love be known: Let no distress, Curb or control My thankful soul, And praise suppress.
Let not the fear or smart Of His chastising rod, Take off my fervent heart From praising my dear God; Whate’er I feel, Still let me bring This offering And to Him kneel.
Though friends I lose, and wealth, And bear reproach and shame, Though I lose ease and health Still let me praise God’s name. Such fear and pain As would destroy My thanks and joy, O Lord, restrain.
Though human help depart, And flesh draw near to dust, Let faith keep up my heart To love my Saviour just: Then all my days Shall no dis-ease Cause me to cease His joyful praise.
Richard Baxter, 1615-91