Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/In Suffering
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In Suffering.
Father, Thy will, not mine, be done;So prayed on earth Thy suffering Son; So in His name I pray.The spirit faints, the flesh is weak,Thy help in agony I seek, Oh! take this cup away.
If such be not Thy sovereign will,Thy wiser purpose then fulfil; My wishes I resign;Into Thy hands my soul commend,On Thee for life or death depend; Thy will be done, not mine.