O God, Thou art my God alone;
Early to Thee my soul shall cry;
A pil­grim in a land un­known,
A thirs­ty land whose springs are dry.

O that it were as it hath been!
When, pray­ing in the ho­ly place,
Thy pow­er and glo­ry I have seen,
And marked the foot­steps of Thy grace.

Yet, through this rough and thor­ny maze,
I fol­low hard on Thee, my God;
Thy hand, un­seen, up­holds my ways;
I safe­ly tread where Thou hast trod.

Thee, in the watch­es of the night,
When I re­mem­ber on my bed;
Thy pre­sence makes the dark­ness light,
Thy guard­ian wings are round my head.

Better than life it­self Thy love,
Dearer than all be­side to me;
For whom have I in Hea­ven above,
Or what on earth, com­pared to Thee?

Praise with my heart, my mind, my voice,
For all Thy mer­cy I will give;
My soul shall still in God re­joice;
My tongue shall bless Thee while I live.