1 Jacob was found in desart land,
In a waste howling wilderness;
God takes and leads him by the hand,
To promis'd seats of happiness.

2 Christ finds his bride in desarts too,
Yes, in a howling wilderness;
And by her hand he leads her through
To seats of endless happiness.

3 She doth not boast she found him there,
But he found her and brought her out;
He makes her his peculiar care,
Fair bride saith he, you could not doubt.

4 You need not wish to have the care,
Of your salvation in your hands:
Could it be so you might despair,
Of reaching to the promis'd land.

5 My bride the favorite of my choice,
For her this work I undertook;
She's like the apple of mine eyes,
Her name is written in my book.

6 But in our hearts these thoughts will rise,
Can I be one he makes his choice?
Our tears alas! be-cloud our eyes,
While in his love we would rejoice.

7 But oh we've no where else to go,
We throw our souls into his hand;
Lead us dear Jesus while below,
And bring us to the heavenly land.