Lord, for­ev­er at Thy side
Let my place and por­tion be;
Strip me of the robe of pride,
Clothe me with hu­mi­li­ty.

Meekly may my soul re­ceive
All Thy Spir­it hath re­vealed;
Thou hast spok­en; I be­lieve,
Though the pro­phe­cy were sealed.

Quiet as a wean­èd child,
Weanèd from the mo­ther’s breast,
By no sub­tle­ty be­guiled,
On Thy faith­ful Word I rest.

Saints re­joic­ing ev­er­more,
In the Lord Je­ho­vah trust,
Him, in all His ways, adore,
Wise, and won­der­ful, and just.