1 Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee;
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my All shalt be.
Perish ev'ry fond ambition,
All I've sought, or hoped, or known;
Yet how rich is my condition!
God and heav'n are still my own.

2 Go, then, earthly fame and treasure!
Come, disaster, scorn and pain!
In Thy service, pain is pleasure;
With Thy favor, loss is gain.
I have called Thee Abba, Father!
I have stayed my heart on Thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
All must work for good to me.

3 Haste, my soul, from grace to glory,
Armed by faith and winged by prayer;
Heav'n's eternal day's before thee,
God's own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope soon change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.