Hymn 195

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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 tumult of my troubled breast.

Girt with the love of God, on every side,
I breathe that love as heaven’s own healing air;
I work and pray, and follow still my guide,
And fear no 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;
I lean on Thee, in weakness I am strong.