I

"Thou art my portion," saith my soul,

And I am rich in Thee;

My God, there is no want I crave,

But Thou suppliest to me.

II

The labour of my hands may fail,

My path be girt with care;

But plenty crowns the heavenly board,

And I am welcome there.

III

Like mountain brooks in summer time,

Earth's streams of bliss may fail;

But joys perennial flow from Thee,

When parching droughts prevail.

IV

O, rich and full from God's right hand,

Are joys eternal given;

That stream of bliss can never fail

That has its source in heaven.

V

"Thou art my portion," saith my soul,

I have no want denied,

For from the bounties of Thy grace

Are all my needs supplied.