To His Blessed Cross Im Clinging


To his blessed cross I’m clinging,
Weary, worn and tempest driv’n;
Yet along my way I’m singing,
For I’m trav’ling on to heav’n.
And the Savior, in his mercy,
Guides me to his blissful home;
To his blessed cross I’m clinging,
And I praise him as I roam.

To his blessed cross I’m clinging,
Thro’ the sunshine or the gale;
To my heart new joy he’s bringing,
For his love doth never fail.
Down the vale of life I wander,
And I near Death’s mystic stream;
But his love shall be my portion
Till is done life’s changeful dream.

To his blessed cross I’m clinging,
Nothing else can satisfy;
But his hand my own is holding,
Guiding me to realms on high.
And when night shall overtake me,
To his cross I still will cling;
As I pass from earth and sorrow,
Yet with trustful joy I’ll sing.