Times and Seasons (1839–1846), Aug 1842, p. 894
Thou aged saint, can words avail

1. Thou aged saint, can words avail— Can tears afford relief? Can human sympathies prevail, To soothe thy bosom’s grief?

2. In life how suddenly betide Those evils that destroy! ’Twas but a moment to divide Thy hopes, and blasts thy joy!

3. Deep is the wound and keen the dart— It stings thy inmost soul— And through the fibres of thy heart Affliction’s waters roll!

4. But cease thy sorrow—peace—be calm And let thy tears be dry— Sweet consolation’s softest balm Is flowing from on high.

5. It is the Lord—his ways are just— There’s mercy in his rod; Thou know’s. his goodness and can trust The true and living God.

6. Great are the blessings now in store For thee, in faithfulness: Look thro’ thy sorrows and adore The hand that smites to bless,

7. This sudden stroke has rent a chord In twain that bound you here; But glorious will be your reward When in that blessed sphere.

8. When all is joy, you will rejoin Your dear and fav’rite son; And glory in this deep design Of the Eternal One.