In the heart of London city
Mid the dwellings of the poor,
Those bright, golden words were uttered,
“I have Christ! What want I more?”
By a lonely, dying woman,
Stretched upon a garret floor,
Having not one earthly comfort—
“I have Christ! What want I more?”
He who heard them ran to fetch her
Something from this world’s great store;
It was needless—she died saying
“I have Christ. What want I more?”
But her words will live forever;
I repeat them o’er and o’er.
God delights to hear me saying,
“I have Christ! What want I more?”
Oh my dear, my fellow-sinners,
High and low, and rich and poor,
Can you say with deep thanksgiving,
“I have Christ. What want I more?”
Look away from earth’s attractions,
All earth’s joys will soon be o’er;
Rest not till each heart exclaimeth,
“I have Christ! What want I more?”
ML-09/03/1978