| Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907. | | | Poems.
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. | |
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| I cannot fall till Thou dost let, | 5 |
| Nor die, except at Thy command. | |
| Low let me lie, my Father, yet | |
| Beneath Thy hand. | |
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| ’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? | |
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| 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. | |
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| 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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