How gracious and how wise
Is our chastising God!
And O! how rich the blessings are,
That blossom from his rod!

He lifts it up on high,
With pity in his heart;
That ev’ry stroke his children feel
May grace and peace impart.

Instruct thus, they bow
And own his sov’reign sway;
They turn their erring footsteps back
To his forsaken way.

His cov’nant love they seek,
And seek the happy bands
that closer still engage their hearts,
To honour his commands.

Submissive, Lord! we yield
To discipline divine,
And bless the pains that make us still
More uniformly thine.