O holy Sav­ior, friend un­seen,
The faint, the weak on Thee may lean,
Help me, through­out life’s va­ry­ing scene,
By faith to cling to Thee.

Blessed with com­mun­ion so di­vine,
Take what Thou wilt, shall I re­pine;
When, as the branch­es to the vine,
My soul may cling to Thee?

Far from her home, fa­tigued, op­pressed,
Here she has found her place of rest
An ex­ile still, yet not un­blest,
While she can cling to Thee.

What though the world de­ceit­ful prove,
And earth­ly friends and joys re­move,
With pa­tient, un­com­plain­ing love
Still would I cling to Thee.

Oft when I seem to read alone
Some bar­ren waste, with thorns o’er­grown,
A voice of love, in gent­lest tone,
Whispers, Still cling to Me.

Though faith and hope may long be tried,
I ask not, need not aught be­side;
How safe, how calm, how sa­tis­fied,
The souls that cling to Thee!

They fear not life’s rough storms to brave,
Since Thou art near, and strong to save;
Nor shud­der e’en at death’s dark wave,
Because they cling to Thee.

Blessed is my lot, whate’er be­fall;
What can dis­turb me, who ap­pall,
While as my strength, my rock, my all,
All, Sav­ior, I cling to Thee!