A long time I wandered in darkness and sin,
And wondered if ever the light would shine in.
I heard Christian friends speak of raptures divine,
And I wished — how I wished! — that their Savior was mine.
I heard the glad gospel of "good will to men,"
I read "whosoever" again and again: I said to my soul, "Can that promise be thine?"
And then began hoping that Jesus were mine.
The words of the Savior no longer I'll doubt:
"Whoe ‘er comes to Me, I'll in no wise cast out."
On His truth I am resting—assurance divine.—
I'm "hoping" no longer — I know He is mine!