Father, what can to Thee be giv'n For all Thy mercies blest; For riches of Thy glorious grace, And for the bliss of rest?

My weary soul doth pant for Thee, In dry and thorny land; And in the howling wilderness I find Thy guiding Hand.

Thou lovest me with love unknown, When no one can console, And, like the apple of Thine eyes, Preservest Thou my soul.

Thou leadest me, and Thou alone, In paths Thou knowest best; I trust Thee when I cannot trace The way to future rest.

Within Thy hand I place my own, And thus my path pursue, Content to walk with Thee alone, Till glory fills my view.