Suffering (I)

When peace has fled and suff'ring streams

Upon the path I take

When love is far cold are the dreams

That food which I partake.

Still I recall to mind

The summertime

Therefore I have hope

Through all the crime.

He will not cast off forever

He does not bring grief willingly

So crushed I am, here, with fever

"Here, strike my cheek" - you make me meek. 

Bearing this yoke, while I am young

Still, lighter than ten thousand tongues

Singing my praise; I wait for you

But let me weep, my patient priest.

You are my portion, peace or pain

You are my hope, though I am slain

You are my love through rust and rage

All days must end, so too this haze. 

                    (for no one is cast off by the LORD long;

                    though he brings grief, he will show compassion;

                    his steadfast love is great;

                    he does not afflict willingly

                    or bring grief happily, amen)

Praise him when the oppressor comes

And see - as light bids the darkness depart

So, too, praise that streams from the heart

Will drown Temptation and his sons - Amen.