My Savior, I am weary
Of everything but Thee;
All else is dark and dreary,
A wilderness to me.
By sin I am 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 raise.
No more shall Satan tempt me,
No more shall sin deceive;
No more Thy heart, my Savior,
Shall I by folly grieve.
Oh! then I shall be like Thee,
And in Thine image shine:
With deepest joy confessing,
The glory's only Thine.