Lord I Am Thine But Thou Wilt Prove
Lord, I am thine; but thou wilt prove
My faith, my patience, and my love:
When men of spite against me join,
They are the sword the hand is thine.
Their hope and portion lies below:
‘Tis all the happiness they know,
‘Tis all they seek; they take their shares,
And leave the rest among their heirs.
What sinners value, I resign;
Lord, ’tis enough that thou art mine:
I shall behold thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.
This life’s a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which I go,
Hath joys substantial and sincere;
When shall I wake and find me there?
O glorious hour! O blest abode!
I shall be near and like my God;
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of the soul.
My flesh shall slumber in the ground,
Till the last trumpet’s joyful sound;
Then burst the chains in sweet surprise,
And in my Saviour’s image rise.