JOB XIII. 15.

O GOD, who by thy boundless might,
 This earth, heaven's dome and stars of light,
 Hast formed in wisdom and in love! 
Let every human bosom move
 With grateful thoughts, and gladly raise
 In swelling notes a psalm of praise! 
Let high and low, and bond and free,
 Bless thy great name, and trust in thee! 

This is our strong and stedfast stay,
 When health and wealth have flown away;
 When every joy of life is past,
 Our greatest comfort and our last. 
When laid upon the bed of death,
 These thoughts will join our latest breath,
 "I will, O Lord, though crushed and spent I be,
 Yea, though thou slay me, trust in thee." 

A generous virtue, nobly sprung,
 Faith towers our inward powers among,
 Like armed chief, like warrior true,
 Whose courage nothing can subdue,
 But bravely combats to the last,
 Then says with looks high-heavenward cast,
 "I will, O Lord, in this extremity,
 Even though thou slay me, trust in thee."