  "The Lord is good to me!" he said, As on his bended knees he knelt Above his meager crust of bread And voiced the gratitude he felt; And from his supplications, he Arose with strength renewed to face The pinchings of his poverty, The sorrows of his humble place. "The Lord is good to me!" she prayed Above her sleeping babe at rest, While smiles of exaltation played Across her features, care oppressed; And from the crib of anguish where The fever-wasted baby slept She happy slipped away from care And all the anxious tears she wept. 'Mid life's wild wreck as close he grasped The scattered fragments to his side Of millions lost that once he clasped: And with a peace and thankfulness He never knew when Fortune smiled, He put behind him all distress And laughed as lightly as a child. "The Lord is good to me!" How slight The gifts of God we grateful bless, While countless treasures of delight Escape the praise of thankfulness! Through days of sunshine and of rain, Through nights of griefs and rhapsody, How I forget with high disdain How much the Lord is good to me! |
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