Lord, I am Thine; but Thou wilt prove
My faith, my pa-tience, and my love:
When men of spite a-gainst me join,
They are the sword, the hand is Thine.
Their hope and por-tion lies be-low;
'Tis all the hap-pi-ness they know,
'Tis all they seek; they take their shares,
And leave the rest a-mong their heirs.
What sin-ners val-ue, I re-sign;
Lord, 'tis e-nough that Thou art mine;
I shall be-hold Thy bliss-ful face,
And stand com-plete in right-eous-ness.
This life's a dream, an emp-ty show;
But the bright world to which I go
Hath joys sub-stan-tial and sin-cere;
When shall I wake, and find me there?
O glo-rious hour! O blest a-bode!
I shall be near and like my God!
And flesh and sin no more con-trol
The sa-cred plea-sures of my soul.
My flesh shall slum-ber in the ground,
Till the last trum-pet's joy-ful sound;
Then burst the chains with sweet sur-prise,
And in my Sav-iour's im-age rise.
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