“My times are in thy hand”

    MY times are in thy hand!       I know not what a day     Or e’en an hour may bring to me,     But I am safe while trusting thee,       Though all things fade away.         All weakness, I         On him rely Who fixed the earth and spread the starry sky.     My times are in thy hand!       Pale poverty or wealth,     Corroding care or calm repose,     Spring’s balmy breath or winter’s snows,       Sickness or buoyant health,—         Whate’er betide,         If God provide, ’T is for the best; I wish no lot beside.     My times are in thy hand!       Should friendship pure illume     And strew my path with fairest flowers,     Or should I spend life’s dreary hours       In solitude’s dark gloom,         Thou art a friend,         Till time shall end Unchangeably the same; in thee all beauties blend.     My times are in thy hand!       Many or few, my days     I leave with thee,—this only pray,     That by thy grace, I, every day       Devoting to thy praise,         May ready be         To welcome thee Whene’er thou com’st to set my spirit free.     My times are in thy hand!       Howe’er those times may end,     Sudden or slow my soul’s release,     Midst anguish, frenzy, or in peace,       I’m safe with Christ my friend.         If he is nigh,         Howe’er I die, ’T will be the dawn of heavenly ecstasy.     My times are in thy hand!       To thee I can intrust     My slumbering clay, till thy command     Bids all the dead before thee stand,       Awaking from the dust.         Beholding thee,         What bliss ’t will be With all thy saints to spend eternity!     To spend eternity       In heaven’s unclouded light!     From sorrow, sin, and frailty free,     Beholding and resembling thee,—       O too transporting sight!         Prospect too fair         For flesh to bear! Haste! haste! my Lord, and soon transport me there!