If Christ is mine, then all is mine,
And more than an­gels know;
Both pre­sent things and things to come,
And grace and glo­ry, too.

If He is mine, then, though He frown,
He ne­ver will for­sake;
His chas­tise­ments all work for good,
And but His love be­speak.

If He is mine, I need not fear,
The rage of earth and hell;
He will support my fee­ble frame,
And all their pow­er re­pel.

If He is mine, let friends for­sake,
And earth­ly com­forts flee;
He, the dis­pens­er of all good,
Is more than these to me.

If He is mine, I’ll fear­less pass
Through death’s tre­men­dous vale;
He’ll be my com­fort and my stay
When heart and flesh shall fail.

Let Je­sus tell me He is mine,
I no­thing want be­side:
My soul shall at the foun­tain live
When all the streams are dried.