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LET not God’s praises grow
    On prosperous heights alone,
But in the vales below
    Let His great love be known:
        Let no distress,
            Curb or control
            My thankful soul,
        And praise suppress.
2  Let not the fear or smart
    Of His chastising rod,
Take off my fervent heart
    From praising my dear God;
        Whate’er I feel,
            Still let me bring
            This offering
        And to Him kneel.
3  Though friends I lose, and wealth,
    And bear reproach and shame,
Though I lose ease and health
    Still let me praise God’s name.
        Such fear and pain
            As would destroy
            My thanks and joy,
        O Lord, restrain.
4  Though human help depart,
    And flesh draw near to dust,
Let faith keep up my heart
    To love my Saviour just:
        Then all my days
            Shall no dis-ease
            Cause me to cease
        His joyful praise.
Richard Baxter, 1615-91