To Thee, O dear, dear Sav­ior!
My spir­it turns for rest,
My peace is in Thy fa­vor,
My pil­low on Thy breast!
Though all the world de­ceive me,
I know that I am Thine,
And Thou wilt ne­ver leave me,
O bless­èd Sav­ior mine.

In Thee my trust abid­eth,
On Thee my hope re­lies,
O Thou whose love pro­vid­eth
For all be­neath the skies;
O Thou whose mer­cy found me,
From bond­age set me free,
And then for­ev­er bound me
With three­fold cords to Thee.

My grief is in the dull­ness
With which this slug­gish heart
Doth open to the full­ness
Of all Thou wouldst im­part;
My joy is in Thy beau­ty
Of ho­li­ness divine,
My com­fort in the du­ty
That binds my life in Thine.

Alas, that I should ever
Have failed in love to Thee,
The on­ly one who ne­ver
Forgot or slight­ed me!
O for a heart to love Thee
More truly as I ought,
And no­thing place above Thee
In deed, or word, or thought.

O for that choic­est bless­ing
Of liv­ing in Thy love,
And thus on earth pos­sess­ing
The peace of Heav’n above;
O for the bliss that by it
The soul se­cure­ly knows
The ho­ly calm and qui­et
Of faith’s se­rene re­pose!