I will not let Thee go,
Thou Guest di­vine,
Until Thy name I know,
By word or sign;
Art Thou the Man who died,
Between thieves cru­ci­fied?
Until Thy name I know,
I will not let Thee go.

What though the day should break,
The sha­dows flee,
Thy leave Thou shalt not take,
I’ll cleave to Thee;
Thy touch my pow­ers may numb,
Till, halt­ing, I suc­cumb,
But till Thy name I know,
I will not let Thee go.

What marks are these I see,
Upon Thy brow?
O Man of Cal­va­ry,
I read Thee now;
I read Thy lin­eage well:
Make Ja­cob, Is­ra­el!
My suit till Thou be­stow,
I will not let Thee go.

The cross Thou didst en­dure,
The cup, the shame;
Ah, yes, I’m doub­ly sure
Thou art the same:
The Rock, once ri­ven for me,
The Rod, that smote death’s sea,
Thy bless­ing floods me so,
O, Lord! I let Thee go!