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Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.

By Poems. II. “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him”

Henry Septimus Sutton (1825–1901)

WHAT if I perish, after all,

And lose this life, Thy gracious boon?

Let me not fear that I shall fall

And die too soon.

I cannot fall till Thou dost let,

Nor die, except at Thy command.

Low let me lie, my Father, yet

Beneath Thy hand.

’Tis good to think, though I decrease

Thou dost not, Lord, decrease with me;

What matters it that I must cease,

Since Thou must be?

The life thou willedst me I use

To thank Thee for that gracious will;—

If I must lose it, I would choose

To thank Thee still.

No more might I lift prayerful eyes,

Or sway a tongue to grateful tones;

Yet should a noise of praise still rise

Even from my bones.