I HAVE a friend who is so true to me,
We may not parted be.

Though I have strayed, on to the uttermost,
Yet is his voice not lost.

If I am madly-deaf for having erred,
Still may I hear his word.

If sin hath slain mine honor, straight appears,
The river of his rears,

Wherein I find redemption; tenderly
He woos my fear away.

And searches out some star of hope, above,
So boundless is his love.

When from the loathed grave I shall arise,
He 'll hall me from the skies.

Who else would seek me in corruption's dress
With a so kind caress?

Though I am weak, there is a hope of power;
He is my mighty tower;

Like as a flame to fright the gloom away;
He is my perfect day.

I am the homely bulb that tops the reed —
He is the precious seed.

I am the rudest shell the vext-waves whirl —
He is the priceless pearl.

Thou art indeed my friend while ages roll,
O, thou, my deathless soul!