Jesus, my Sav­ior, look on me,
For I am wea­ry and op­pressed;
I come to cast my­self on Thee:
Thou art my rest.

Look down on me, for I am weak;
I feel the toil­some jour­ney’s length;
Thine aid om­ni­potent I seek:
Thou art my strength.

I am be­wil­dered on my way,
Dark and tem­pes­tuous is the night;
O send Thou forth some cheer­ing ray:
Thou art my light.

I hear the storms around me rise;
But when I dread th’im­pend­ing shock,
My spi­rit to the re­fuge flies:
Thou art my rock.

When Sa­tan flings his fie­ry darts,
I look to Thee; my ter­rors cease;
Thy cross a hid­ing place im­parts:
Thou art my peace.

Standing alone on Jor­dan’s brink,
In that tre­men­dous, lat­est strife,
Thou will not suf­fer me to sink:
Thou art my life.

Thou wilt my ev­ery want sup­ply,
E’en to the end, whate’er be­fall;
Through life, in death, eter­nal­ly,
Thou art my all.