1 O Lord! how happy is the time,
When in thy love I rest,
When from my weariness I climb
E'en to Thy tender breast.
The night of sorrow endeth there,
The rays outshine the sun,
And in Thy pardon, and Thy care,
The heaven of heavens is won.

2 The world may call itself my foe,
Or let the world allure,
I care not for the world--I go
To this tried Friend and sure.
And when life's fiercest storms are sent,
Upon life's wildest sea,
My little bark is confident,
Because it holds by Thee.

3 When the law threatens endless death,
Upon the dreadful hill,
Straightway from its consuming breath
My soul mounts higher still;
It hastes to Jesus, wounded, slain,
And finds in Him its home,
Whence it shall not go forth again,
And where no death can come.

4 I do not fear the wilderness,
Where Thou hast been before;
Nay! rather would I daily press
Toward Thee, and near Thee more!
Thou art my strength, on Thee I lean,
My heart thou makest sing,
And to Thy pastures rich and green
Thy chosen flock wilt bring.

5 And if the gate that opens there
Be closed to other men,
It is not closed to those who share
The heart of Jesus then.
That is not losing much of life,
Which is not losing thee,
Who art as present in the strife,
As in the victory!