Braving each foe, escaping every snare.
'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.
I am all want and hunger; this faint heart
Pines for a fullness which it finds not here,
Dear ones are leaving, and as they depart,
Make room within for something yet more dear.
More of thyself, oh, show me hour by hour