Not what I am, O Lord, but what Thou art!
That, that alone can be my soul’s true rest:
Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt depart,
And stills the tempest of my throbbing breast.
It is Thy perfect love the casts out fear;
I know the voice that speaks the
It is I;
And in these well known words of heav’nly cheer,
I hear the joy that bids each sorrow fly.
Thy name is Love! I hear it from yon cross;
Thy name is Love! I read it in yon tomb:
All meaner love is perishable dross,
But this shall light me thro’ time’s thickest gloom.
It blesses now, and shall for ever bless,
It saves me now, and shall for ever save;
It holds me up in days of helplessness,
It bears me safely o’er each swelling wave.
Girt with the love of God on every side,
Breathing that love as Heav’ns own healing air,
I work or wait, still following my guide,
Braving each foe, escaping every snare.
’Tis what I know of Thee, my Lord and God,
That fills my soul with peace, my lips with song:
Thou art my health, my joy, my staff and rod;
Leaning on Thee, in weakness I am strong.
I am all want and hunger; this faint heart
Pines for a fullness which it finds not here;
Dear ones are leaving, and, as they depart,
Make room within for something yet more dear.
More of Thyself, O show me hour by hour;
More of Thy glory, O my God and Lord:
More of Thyself in all Thy grace and power,
More of Thy love and truth, incarnate Word!