Let me but hear my Sav­ior say,
Strength shall be equal to thy day;
Then I re­joice in deep dis­tress,
Leaning on all-suf­fi­cient grace.

I glo­ry in in­fir­mi­ty,
That Christ’s own pow­er may rest on me;
When I am weak, then am I strong,
Grace is my shield, and Christ my song.

I can do all things, or can bear
All suf­fer­ings, if my Lord be there;
Sweet plea­sures min­gle with the pains
While His left hand my head sus­tains.

But if the Lord be once with­drawn,
And we at­tempt the work alone;
When new temp­ta­tions spring and rise,
We find how great our weak­ness is.

So Sam­son, when his hair was lost,
Met the Phi­lis­tines to his cost;
Shook his vain limbs with sad sur­prise,
Made fee­ble fight, and lost his eyes.