My soul be­fore Thee pros­trate lies;
To Thee, her source, my spir­it flies;
My wants I mourn, my chains I see;
O let Thy pre­sence set me free.

Jesus, vouch­safe my heart and will
With Thy meek low­li­ness to fill;
No more her pow­er let na­ture boast,
But in Thy will may mine be lost.

Already spring­ing hope I feel,
God will de­stroy the pow­er of hell,
And, from a land of wars and pain,
Lead me where peace and safe­ty reign.

One on­ly care my soul shall know,
Father, all Thy com­mands to do;
And feel, what end­less years shall prove,
That Thou, my Lord, my God, art love.