The Word Whose Word Can Make Me Whole
The Word, whose word can make me whole,
Has heard my spirit’s cry,
And in the palace of the soul,
He dwells!-my Lord and I!
How holy must the temple be,
Where Jesus reigns within!
His precious blood, outpoured for me,
I trust to make me clean.
And He is come! to whom the praise,
The joy of heaven, belong;
My face I veil, my hands I raise,
And “silence is my song.”
And now to me the gladdest thing
Be His sweet will alone;
Content, since I am with the King,
To make His choice my own.
He makes His palace in my soul,
He brings my spirit nigh;
Within my heart, ‘neath His control,
I dwell,-my Lord and I!