Not what I am, O Lord
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.
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 thro' 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 pow'r;
More of Thy love and truth, Incarnate Word.
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