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. 2 Their hope and portion lie below; ’Tis all the happiness they know; ’Tis all they seek; they take their shares And leave the rest among their heirs. 3 What sinners value I resign; Lord, ’tis enough that thou art mine. I shall behold thy blissful face, And stand complete in righteousness. 4 This life’s a dream, an empty show, But the bright world to which I go, Has joys substantial and sincere; When shall I wake and find me there? 5 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 my soul. 6 My flesh shall slumber in the ground, Till the last trumpet’s joyful sound; Then burst the chains with sweet surprise, And in my Saviour’s image rise.
