O holy Sav­ior, friend unseen,
The faint, the weak on Thee may lean,
Help me, throughout life’s varying scene,
By faith to cling to Thee.

Blessed with communion so divine,
Take what Thou wilt, shall I repine;
When, as the branches to the vine,
My soul may cling to Thee?

Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed,
Here she has found her place of rest
An exile still, yet not unblest,
While she can cling to Thee.

What though the world deceitful prove,
And earthly friends and joys remove,
With patient, uncomplaining love
Still would I cling to Thee.

Oft when I seem to read alone
Some barren wast, with thorns o’ergrown,
A voice of love, in gentlest tone,
Whispers, Still cling to Me.

Though faith and hope may long be tried,
I ask not, need not aught beside;
How safe, how calm, how satisfied,
The souls that cling to Thee!

They fear not life’s rough storms to brave,
Since Thou art near, and strong to save;
Nor shudder e’en at death’s dark wave,
Because they cling to Thee.

Blessed is my lot, whate’er befall;
What can disturb me, who appall,
While as my strength, my rock, my all,
All, Sav­ior, I cling to Thee!