Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee;
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,
Thou, from hence, my all shalt be;
Perish ev’ry fond ambition,
All I’ve sought and hoped and known;
Yet how rich is my condition,
God and heav’n are still my own!
Let the world despise and leave me,
They have left my Savior, too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me;
Thou art not, like man, untrue;
And while Thou shalt smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love and might,
Foes may hate, and friends may shun me,
Show Thy face and all is bright.
Go, then, earthly fame and treasure!
Come, disaster, scorn and pain!
In Thy service, pain is pleasure;
With Thy favor, loss is gain.
I have called Thee, “Abba, Father;”
I have stayed my heart on Thee;
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
All must work for good to me.
Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Armed by faith and wing’d by pray’r;
Heav’n’s eternal day’s before thee,
God’s own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.
Henry F. Lyte/Mozart