My God, my portion, and my love,
My everlasting all!
Iíve none but Thee in Heavín above,
Or on this earthly ball.
What empty things are all the skies,
And this inferior clod!
Thereís nothing here deserves my joys,
Thereís nothing like my God.
In vain the bright, the burning sun
Scatters his feeble light;
íTis Thy sweet beams create my noon;
If Thou withdraw, ítis night.
And whilst upon my restless bed,
Amongst the shades I roll,
If my Redeemer shows His head,
íTis morning with my soul.
To Thee we owe our wealth, our portion
And health, and safe abode:
Thanks to Thy Name for meaner things,
But they are not my God.
How vain a toy is glittíring wealth,
If once compared to Thee!
Or whatís my safety, or my health,
Or all my friends to me?
Were I possessor of the earth,
And called the stars my own,
Without Thy graces and Thyself
I were a wretch undone.
Let others stretch their arms like seas
And grasp in all the shore,
Grant me the visits of Thy face,
And I desire no more.
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