1  Make me a captive, Lord,

    And then I shall be free;

    Force me to render up my sword,

    And I shall conq'ror be.

    I sink in life's alarms

    When by myself I stand,

    Imprisons me within Thy arms,

    And strong shall be my hand.

 2  My heart is weak and poor

    Until it master find:

    It has no spring of action sure,

    It varies with the wind;

    It cannot freely move

    Till Thou hast wrought its chain;

    Enslave it with Thy matchless love,

    And deathless it shall reign.

 3  My power is faint and low

    Till I have learned to serve:

    It wants the needed fire to glow,

    It wants the breeze to nerve;

    It cannot drive the world

    Until itself be driven;

    Its flag can only be unfurled

    When Thou shalt breathe from heaven.

 4  My will is not my own

    Till Thou hast made it Thine;

    If it would reach the monarch's throne

    It must its crown resign;

    It only stands unbent

    Amid the clashing strife.

    When on Thy bosom it has leant,

    And found in Thee its life.