H. Bonar

NOT what I am, O Lord, but what Thou art;

That, that alone, can be my soul’s true rest;

Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt depart,

And stills the tempest of my tossing breast.


It is Thy perfect love that casts out fear;

I know the voice that speaks the It is I,

And in these well-known words of heavenly cheer

I hear the joy that bids each sorrow fly.


Thy Name is Love! I hear it from yon cross;

Thy Name is Love! I read it in yon tomb;

All meaner love is perishable dross,

But this shall light me through time’s thickest gloom.


It blesses now, and shall forever bless;

It saves me now, and shall forever save;

It holds me up in days of helplessness,

It bears me safely o’er each swelling wave.


’Tis what I know of Thee, my Lord and God,

That fills my soul with peace, my lips with song;

Thou art my health, my joy, my staff, my rod;

Leaning on Thee, in weakness I am strong.


More of Thyself, oh, show me, hour by hour;

More of Thy glory, O my God and Lord;

More of Thyself in all Thy grace and power;

More of Thy love and truth, Incarnate Word.


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