My soul has found ab­id­ing rest,
Where liv­ing fount­ains flow;
Where vales are in their ver­dure dressed,
And Sha­ron’s ros­es blow.
’Tis but a step to Sy­char’s well,
Where Je­sus speaks to me;
And oft by faith I seem to dwell
With Him in Ga­li­lee.

All gird­ed for the vic­tor’s race,
I run to win the prize
That Je­sus of­fers by His grace
To faith’s as­pir­ing eyes.
I trust Him still when for­tunes frown,
His ser­vice is so sweet,
I lay my hea­vy bur­den down
At my Re­deem­er’s feet.

I see the shin­ing way He went
To do His Fa­ther’s will;
And fol­low on in sweet con­tent,
So glad He loves me still.
And if I may but serve Him here
In my own hum­ble way
I know that I shall have no fear,
In that eter­nal day.