Hymns from the Land of Luther

If only He is mine--

If but this poor heart

Never more, in grief or joy,

May from Him depart,

Then farewell to sadness,

All I feel is love, and hope, and gladness.

If only He is mine,

Then from all below,

Leaning on my pilgrim-staff,

Gladly forth I go

From the crowd who follow

In the broad, bright road, their pleasures false and hollow.

If only He is mine,

Then all else is given;

Every blessing lifts my eyes

And my heart to heaven.

Fill'd with heavenly love,

Earthly hopes and fears no longer tempt to move.

There, where He is mine,

Is my Fatherland,

And thy heritage of bliss

Daily cometh from His hand.

Now I find again

In His people love long lost, and mourn'd in vain.