Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest;

Far did I rove, and found no certain home;

At last I sought them in his sheltering breast,

Who opes his arms, and bids the weary come:

With him I found a home, a rest divine;

And I since then am his, and he is mine.

2 Yes! he is mine! and nought of earthly things,

Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power,

The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings,

Could tempt me to forego his love an hour.

Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that’s thine!

Go! I my Saviour’s am, and he is mine.

3 The good I have is from his stores supplied;

The ill is only what he deems the best;

He for my Friend, I’m rich with nought beside;

And poor without him, though of all possest:

Changes may come; I take, or I resign;

Content, while I am his, while he is mine.