1 Lord, I am thine, but thou wilt prove
My faith, my patience, and my love;
When men of spite against me join,
They are the sword, the hand is thine.

2 Their hope and portion lie below;
’Tis all the happiness they know;
’Tis all they seek; they take their shares
And leave the rest among their heirs.

3 What sinners value I resign;
Lord, ’tis enough that thou art mine.
I shall behold thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.

4 This life’s a dream, an empty show,
But the bright world to which I go,
Has joys substantial and sincere;
When shall I wake and find me there?

5 O glorious hour! O blest abode!
I shall be near, and like my God!
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of my soul.

6 My flesh shall slumber in the ground,
Till the last trumpet’s joyful sound;
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in my Saviour’s image rise.