Wherefore should I grieve and pine?
Is not Christ the Lord still mine?
Who can sever me from Him?
Who can rob me of the heaven
Which the Son of God hath given
Unto faith though weak and dim?
Naked, helpless, was I born
When my earliest breath was drawn,
Naked must I wander forth,
As a shadow flits away
At the coming of the day,
Bearing nought with me from earth.
Soul and body, life and goods,
Are not mine, are only God's,
Given me by His loving will;
Would He take back aught of His,
Let Him take it, not for this
Shall my song of praise be still.
Sendeth He some cross to bear,
Cometh sorrow, need, or care,
Shall it all my peace destroy?
He who sends can end it too,
Well He knows in season due,
How to turn my griefs to joy.
Many a day of happiness
Hath He sent who loves to bless,
Shall I not bear aught for God?
He is kind, we know that He
Ne'er forsakes us utterly,
Love lies hidden in His rod.
What is there my foes can do,
Though they be nor weak nor few,
Save to scorn and mock my woe?
Let them laugh, and let them mock,
God my Saviour and my Rock
Soon shall all their schemes o'erthrow.
With a glad and fearless mien
Should a Christian man be seen,
Wheresoe'er be cast his lot;
Yea, though death seem close at hand,
Calm and quiet let him stand,
And his spirit tremble not.
Him no death has power to kill,
But from many a dreaded ill
Bears his spirit safe away:
Shuts the door of bitter woes,
Opens yon bright path that glows
With the light of perfect day.
There in deepest joy my heart
Shall be heal'd from all the smart
Of the wounds that pierced it here;
Here can no true good be found,
Seeming goods that here abound
In a moment disappear.
Wealth that this world can command,
Is it aught but barren sand,
Bringing cares and troubles sore?
There, there are the gifts unpriced
Where my Shepherd Jesus Christ
Shall refresh me evermore.
Fount of joy, my Lord Divine,
Thine I am, and Thou art mine,
Nought can part my soul from Thee;
I am Thine, for Thou didst give
Once Thy life that I might live,
Dearly didst Thou purchase me.
Thou art mine, because my heart
Ne'er will let Thee more depart,
Clings to Thee her joy, her light;
Bring me, bring me to that place
Where, enclasped in Thine embrace,
Love at last is blest with sight.