It is not lost what I have given

To Him Who gave Himself for me;

I have an offering in heaven,

And I am rich in poverty.

The empty heart in sorrow pines,

And darkness blinds my tear-filled eyes;

But round my soul the light entwines

That tells me that the morn shall rise.

I have not lost what I have given;

Yea, Lord, but well Thou knowest the pain,

When gladness from the heart is driven,

And threatening clouds succeed the rain.

But by the grievous pain of loss,

Thy soul was filled with bliss untold;

And from the offering of the Cross,

More wealth was Thine than purest gold.

It is not lost what I have given

To Him Who gave Himself for me;

The gift awaits my soul in heaven,

Mine own to all eternity.