Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest;
Far did I rove, and found 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,
And I since then am His, 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 naught beside;
And poor without Him, though of all possessed.
Changes may come; I take, or I resign;
Content, while I am His, and He is mine.
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 then will love Him better, praise Him more,
And feel, and tell, amid the choir divine,
How fully I am His, and He is mine.