Classic Poem

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 tossing breast.

It is thy perfect love that casts out fear;
I know the voice that speaks the “It is I;”
And in these well-known words of heavenly cheer,
I hear the joy that bids each sorrow fly.

Thy name is Love! I hear it from yon cross;
Thy name is Love! I read it in yon tomb;
All meaner love is perishable dross,
But this shall light me thro' time's thickest gloom.

It blesses now, and shall for ever bless,
It saves me now, and shall for ever save;
It holds me up in days of helplessness,
It bears me safely o'er each swelling wave.

Girt with the love of God on every side,
Breathing that love as heaven's own healing air,
I work or wait, still following my guide,
Braving each 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, and rod,
Leaning on thee, in weakness I am strong.

I am all want and hunger; this faint heart
Pines for a fulness which it finds not here;
Dear ones are leaving, and, as they depart,
Make room within for something yet more dear.

More of thyself, Oh, shew me hour by hour
More of thy glory, O my God and Lord;
More of thyself in all thy grace and power,
More of thy love and truth, Incarnate Word!