MY Savior, I am weary
Of everything but Thee,
All else is dark and dreary,
A wilderness to me.
By sin I’m sore oppressed,
By Satan sorely tried,
With self-love all distressed,
In Thee myself I hide.
Thy precious blood, it healeth
The wounds that sin has made;
My heart its comfort feeleth,
Whene’er it is afraid.
But, oh! the hope of being
Forever, Lord, with Thee;
The joyful hope of seeing
The face once marred for me—
It fills my heart with comfort,
It fills my lips with praise,
So that amidst my sorrow
A joyful song I’ll raise.
No more shall Satan tempt me,
No more shall sin deceive
No more Thy heart, my Savior,
Shall I by folly grieve.
0! then, I shall be like Thee,
And in Thine image shine,
With deepest joy confessing
The glory ‘s only Thine.
J. G. D.