| |
| LONG did I toil, and knew no earthly rest, | |
| Far did I rove, and find no certain home; | |
| At last I sought them in His sheltering breast, | |
| Who opes His arms and bids the weary come: | |
| With Him I found a home, a rest Divine, | 5 |
| And I since them am His, and He is mine. | |
| |
| Yes, He is mine—and nought of earthly things | |
| Nor all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power, | |
| The fame of heroes or the pomp of kings, | |
| Could tempt me to forget His love one hour. | 10 |
| Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that’s thine: | |
| Go, I my Saviour’s am, and He is mine. | |
| |
| The good I have is from His stores supplied, | |
| The ill is only what He deems the best; | |
| He for my friend I’m rich, with nought beside; | 15 |
| And poor without Him, though of all possest: | |
| Changes may come; I take, or I resign; | |
| Content while I am His and He is mine. | |
| |
| Whate’er may change, in Him no change is seen; | |
| A glorious sun that wanes not nor declines; | 20 |
| Above the clouds and storms He walks serene, | |
| And sweetly on His people’s darkness shines: | |
| All may depart, I fret not nor repine | |
| While I my Saviour’s am, while He is mine. | |
| |
| He stays me falling, lifts me up when down, | 25 |
| Reclaims me wandering, guards from every foe; | |
| Plants on my worthless brow the victor’s crown; | |
| Which in return before His feet I throw, | |
| Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine | |
| Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine. | 30 |
| |
| While here, alas! I know but half His love, | |
| But half discern Him, and but half adore; | |
| But when I meet Him in the realms above, | |
| I hope to love Him better, praise Him more, | |
| And feel still, amid the choir divine, | 35 |
| How fully I am His and He is mine. | |
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