A LANCASHIRE DOXOLOGY.
"Some cotton has lately been imported into Farringdon, where the mills have been closed for a considerable time. The people, who were previously in the deepest distress, went out to meet the cotton: the women wept over the bales and kissed them, and finally sang the Doxology over them."
Spectator of May 14, 1863.
![P](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/fa/IllumPoemsAllenP.png/63px-IllumPoemsAllenP.png)
Praise Him who sendeth joy and woe.
The Lord who takes,—the Lord who gives,—
O praise Him, all that dies, and lives.
He opens and He shuts his hand,
But why, we cannot understand:
Pours and dries up his mercies' flood,
And yet is still All-perfect Good.
But why, we cannot understand:
Pours and dries up his mercies' flood,
And yet is still All-perfect Good.
We fathom not the mighty plan,
The mystery of God and man;
We women, when afflictions come,
We only suffer and are dumb.
The mystery of God and man;
We women, when afflictions come,
We only suffer and are dumb.
And when, the tempest passing by,
He gleams out, sun-like, through our sky,
We look up, and through black clouds riven,
We recognize the smile of Heaven.
He gleams out, sun-like, through our sky,
We look up, and through black clouds riven,
We recognize the smile of Heaven.
Ours is no wisdom of the wise,
We have no deep philosophies:
Childlike we take both kiss and rod,
For he who loveth knoweth God.
We have no deep philosophies:
Childlike we take both kiss and rod,
For he who loveth knoweth God.