1 Whom have I, Lord, in heav'n but Thee?
And this my song through life shall be:
He hath for me the serpent trod,
He hath redeemed me "by His blood,"
2 I envy not the rich their joys:
I covet not earth's glitt'ring toys:
Earth can no lasting bliss bestow,
"Fading" is stamped on all below;
3 Though with the poor be cast my lot:
"He knoweth best," I murmur not:
Though "vine" and "fig-tree" blight assail,
The "labor of the olive fail,"
4 Though I am now on hostile ground,
Let earth her fiercest battles wage,
And foes against my soul engage,
5 And when my life draws to its close,
Safe in His arms I shall repose,
When sharpest pains my frame pervade,
And all the powers of nature fade,