Scripture Verse

We have left all, and have followed Thee. Mark 10:28


Henry F. Lyte (1793–1847)

Words: Hen­ry F. Lyte, in Sac­red Po­et­ry (Ed­in­burgh, Scot­land: Oli­phant & Sons, third edi­tion, 1824). Re­vised in Lyte’s Po­ems Chief­ly Re­li­gious, 1833.

Music: Hy­fry­dol Row­land H. Pri­chard, Cy­faill y Can­to­ri­on (Llan­id­loes, Wales: John M. Jones, print­er, 1844) (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tunes:

Rowland H. Prichard (1811–1887)


The ve­ry first con­vert in Ind­ia won to Christ by Dr. Duff [was]…Mo­hesh Chun­der Ho­se—a high caste Hin­doo, and the ed­it­or of the most in­flu­en­tial news­pa­per in In­dia. Dis­sa­tis­fied with the teach­ings of the priests, he had sec­ret­ly re­nounced the faith of his child­hood, but in the ab­sence of some­thing to rest his soul up­on, he was mi­se­ra­ble.

At length, com­ing un­der the pow­er of truth and in­flu­ence of such a saint­ly life as that of Dr. Duff, the great Scotch Mis­sion­ary, he could hold out no long­er, and in spite of him­self be­came a con­vert, took Chris­tian ground and faced the storm of per­se­cu­tion which he knew he would have to bear. This was the case with Dr. Duff’s first con­vert, and si­mi­lar was the case of the se­cond—Go­pin­ah Mun­di—af­ter­wards the dis­tin­guished mis­sion­ary of Fut­te­pore.

Giving up fa­ther, mo­ther, hous­es, lands—all their pa­tri­mo­ny—for that is the pen­al­ty in In­dia for apos­ta­sis­ing from the hea­then re­li­gion and es­pous­ing Christ—those two young men en­tered in­to li­ber­ty and a rich­er in­he­ri­tance. They soon found how true the words of the Lord Je­sus were: Ve­ri­ly I say un­to you no man shall lose fa­ther or mo­ther or hous­es etc. This was their ex­pe­ri­ence, and so they could ea­si­ly say:

Jesus, I my cross have tak­en.

Morrison, p. 202


Jesus, I my cross have tak­en,
All to leave and fol­low Thee.
Destitute, des­pised, for­sak­en,
Thou from hence my all shalt be.
Perish, ev­ery fond am­bi­tion,
All I’ve sought, and hoped, and known.
Yet how rich is my con­di­tion—
God and Heav’n are still mine own!

Let the world des­pise and leave me—
They have left my Sav­ior, too—
Human hearts and looks de­ceive me;
Thou art not, like them, un­true;
And while Thou shalt smile up­on me,
God of wis­dom, love and might,
Foes may hate and friends dis­own me:
Show Thy face, and all is bright.

Go then, earth­ly fame and trea­sure!
Come, dis­as­ter, scorn and pain!
In Thy ser­vice, pain is plea­sure;
With Thy fa­vor, loss is gain.
I have called Thee Ab­ba, Fa­ther;
I have set my heart on Thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may ga­ther,
All must work for good to me.

Man may trou­ble and dis­tress me,
’Twill but drive me to Thy breast.
Life with tri­als hard may press me;
Heav’n will bring me sweet­er rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me
While Thy love is left to me!
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy un­mixed with Thee.

Take, my soul, thy full sal­va­tion;
Rise o’er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in ev­ery sta­tion
Something still to do or bear!
Think what Spi­rit dwells with­in thee;
What a Fa­ther’s smile is thine;
What a Sav­ior died to win thee—
Child of Hea­ven, shouldst thou re­pine?

Haste then on from grace to glo­ry,
Armed by faith, and winged by pray­er,
Heaven’s eter­nal day’s be­fore thee,
God’s own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earth­ly miss­ion;
Swift shall pass thy pil­grim days;
Hope soon change to glad fru­ition,
Faith to sight, and pray­er to praise.