1 FATHER, what can to Thee be giv’n
For all Thy mercies blest;
For riches of Thy glorious grace,
And for the bliss of rest?

2 My weary soul doth pant for Thee,
In dry and thorny land;
And in the howling wilderness
I find Thy guiding Hand.

3 Thou lovest me with love unknown,
When no one can console,
And, like the apple of Thine eye,
Preservest Thou my soul.

4 Thou leadest me, and Thou alone,
In paths Thou knowest best;
I trust Thee when I cannot trace
The way to future rest.

5 Within Thy hand I place my own,
And thus my path pursue,
Content to walk with Thee alone,
Till glory fills my view.