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 or hoped or 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 Saviour too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me;
Thou art not like them 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.
Man may trouble and distress me,
'Twill but drive me to Thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me;
Heav'n will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, tis not in grief to harm me,
While Thy love is left to me;
Oh,'twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmixed with Thee.


*~Henry Francis Lyte 1793--1847~