Chosen not for good in me,
Waked from com­ing wrath to flee,
Hidden in the Sav­ior’s side,
By the Spi­rit sanc­ti­fied—
Teach me, Lord, on earth to show
By my love, how much I owe.

Oft I walk be­neath the cloud,
Dark as mid­night’s gloomy shroud:
But, when fear is at the height,
Jesus comes, and all is light;
Blessèd Je­sus! bid me show
Doubting saints how much I owe.

Oft the nights of sor­row reign—
Weeping, sick­ness, sigh­ing, pain;
But a night Thine an­ger burns—
Morning comes, and joy re­turns:
God of com­forts! bid me show
To Thy poor how much I owe.

When in flow­ery paths I tread,
Oft by sin I’m cap­tive led;
Oft I fall, but still arise—
Jesus comes—the tempt­er flies;
Blessèd Je­sus! bid me show
Weary sin­ners all I owe.