Verse > Anthologies > Alfred H. Miles, ed. > The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century
Alfred H. Miles, ed.  The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century.  1907.
II. “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him”
By 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,        5
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;        10
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        15
        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.        20

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