A long time I wan­dered in dark­ness and sin,
And won­dered if ever the light would shine in;
I heard Chris­tian friends tell of rap­tures di­vine,
And wished, how I wished, that their Sav­ior were mine.
I wished He were mine, yes, I wished He were mine;
I wished, how I wished, that their Sav­ior were mine.

I heard the glad Gos­pel of good will to men;
I read who­so­ev­er again and again;
I said to my soul, Can that pro­mise be thine?
And then be­gan hop­ing that Je­sus were mine.
I hoped He was mine, yes, I hoped He was mine;
I then be­gan hop­ing that Je­sus was mine.

Oh, mer­cy sur­pris­ing, He saves ev­en me!
Thy por­tion for­ev­er, He says, I will be.
On His word I’m rest­ing—as­sur­ance di­vine—
I’m hop­ing no long­er—I know He is mine!
I know He is mine, yes, I know He is mine;
I’m hop­ing no long­er—I know He is mine!