W J. Govan


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!


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