Bowed with a burden none can weigh save Thee,

Strength of my life, on Thee I cast my care;

My heart must prove its own infirmity,

But what shall move me, if my God be there?

O for a thankful song with every breath,

While amid fading flowers and withering grass,

I, with Thee, through the grave and gate of death,

On to my joyful resurrection pass.

Armed with the spirit of my Master's mind,

How shall I spare a thought that He would slay?

Lord I would leave those things which are behind,

And press towards Heaven through all the narrow way.

Bright be my prospect as I pass along; —

An ardent service at the cost of all, —

Love by untiring ministry made strong,

And ready for the first, the softest call.

Yes, God is faithful — and my lot is cast;

O not myself to serve, my own to be!

Light of my life, the darkness now is past,

And I beneath the Cross can work for Thee.