SUFFERING I do not know why, oh Lord I so must suffer, Why you allow the devil's horde To make life still rougher. But somehow some godly fruit Through it I offer. And no, though hellish, evil brute Prevents this my proffer. You now my poor soul refine Through seven ghastly fires. Though seven demons 'gainst me incline Safe are my heaven's hires. And though my very soul is torn, My pledge I thee offer. And though my spirit is deadly worn, My praise I thee proffer. Yes, eternal is my song. Bursts of praise roll forward. For ever for thee I long. Psalms of worship flow onward. <christopher bouter>