Not from the dust affliction grows, Nor troubles rise by chance; Yet we are born to care and woes A sad inheritance! As sparks break out from burning coals, And still are upward borne; So grief is rooted in our souls, And man grows up to mourn. Yet with my God I leave my cause, And trust His promised grace; He rules me by His well known laws Of love and righteousness. Not all the pains that e'er I bore, Shall spoil my future peace; For death and hell can do no more Than what the Father please.