Long did I toil and knew no earthly rest,
Far did I rove and found no certain hole;
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 store supplied,
The ill is only what he deems the best;
He for my friend I'm rich with nought beside,
And poor without him, though of all possessed;
Changes may come, I take or I resign,
Content while I am his, while he is mine.
Whate'er may change, in him no change is seen.
A glorious Sun that wanes not nor declines,
Above the storms and clouds he walks serene,
And on his people's inward darkness shines;
All may depart, I fret not, nor repine,
While I my Saviour's am, while 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 hope to love him better, praise him more,
And feel, and tell, amid the choir divine,
How fully I am his and he is mine.
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