Long did I toil and knew no earthly rest, far did I rove and found no certain home; at last I sought them in his sheltering breast, who opens his arms and bids the weary come: with him I found a home, a rest divine, and I since them am his and he is mine. The good I have is from his stores supplied, the ill is only what he deems the best; he for my Friend, I'm rich with nought beside, and poor without him, though of all possessed: changes may come, I take or I resign, content, while I am his, while he is mine. Whate'er may change, in him no change is seen, a glorious Sun that wanes not nor declines, above the clouds and storms he walks serene, and on his people's inward darkness shines: all may depart, I fret not nor repine, while I my Savior's am, while he is mine. While here, alas! I know but half his love, but half discern him and but half adore; but when I meet him in the realms above I hope to love him better, praise him more, and feel and tell, amid the choir divine, how fully I am his and he is mine.