I ask my dy­ing Sav­ior dear
To set me on His heart;
And if my Je­sus fix me there,
Nor life, nor death shall part.

As Aar­on bore up­on his breast
The names of Ja­cob’s sons,
So bear my name among the rest
Of Thy dear chos­en ones.

Yea, set me as a pre­cious seal
Of co­ve­nant grace di­vine,
Which may the co­ve­nant love re­veal,
And mark me tru­ly Thine.

And let the seal be stamp­èd clear,
With ho­li­ness in view,
That I may bear Thine im­age fair,
And oth­ers read it, too.

But seal me al­so on Thine arm,
Or yet I am not right;
I need Thy love to ward off harm,
And need Thy shoul­der’s might.

This dou­ble seal makes all things sure,
And keeps me safe and well;
Thy heart and shoul­der will se­cure
From all the host of hell.