Thou all-atoning Lamb!
Methinks even death will welcome be,
That I, through death, may pass to Thee.
Thou art my portion, saith my soul,
My all in earth or heaven;
None but Thyself can make me whole,
No name but Thine is given
At which the gates of pearl fly wide—
The passport of the justified.
I know Thy voice—I strive to keep