“E’en to hoar hairs will I carry,”
Precious promise, Lord, to me!
Need I then, Lord, seek my welfare
From another source than Thee?
Nay, O Lord, I’d trust Thy promise,
Spirit, soul and body rest;
Sure that Thou dost know the future,
And for me Thy path is best.
“I have made and I will bear thee,”
All to Thee, my Lord, I owe;
Keep Thy servant then, Lord Jesus,
Lest away from Thee I go.
Should the dark hairs turn to silver,
Ere this scene I’m called to leave,
Give me faith to trust Thee, Saviour,
And to Thee in weakness cleave.