Saviour, I lift my trembling eyes,

To that bright seat, where, placed on high,

The great, the atoning sacrifice,

For me, for all, is ever nigh.

2 Be thou my guard on peril’s brink;

Be thou my guide through weal or woe;

And teach me of thy cup to drink,

And make me in thy faith to go.

3 For what is earthly change or loss?

Thy promises are still my own:

The feeblest frame may bear thy cross,

The lowliest spirit share thy throne.