1 Not what I am, O Lord, but what Thou art,
that, that alone can be my soul’s true rest;
Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt depart,
and stills the tempest of my throbbing breast.
2 Thy Name is Love, I hear it from yon cross;
Thy Name is Love, I hear it from yon tomb;
all meaner love is perishable dross,
but this shall light me through time’s thickest gloom.
3 Girt with the love of God on ev'ry side,
breathing that love as heav’ns own healing air,
I work or wait, still following my Guide,
braving each foe, escaping ev'ry snare.
4 ’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 and Rod;
leaning on Thee, in weakness I am strong.
5 More of Thyself, O show me hour by hour;
more of Thy glory, O my God and Lord;
more of Thyself, in all Thy grace and pow'r;
more of Thy love and truth, incarnate Word!
|First Line:||Not what I am, O Lord, but what Thou art|
|Title:||Not What I Am, O Lord|
|Author:||Horatius Bonar (1861)|
|Topic:||Comfort, Death, and Glory|