Words: , in The Meth­od­ist Hymn­al (New York: The Meth­od­ist Book Con­cern, 1905).

Music: War­a­tah, (1854-1911).


Jesus, the calm that fills my breast,
No other heart than Thine can give;
This peace unstirred, this joy of rest,
None but Thy loved ones can receive.

My weary soul has found a charm
That turns to blessedness my woe;
Within the shelter of Thine arm,
I rest secure from storm and foe.

In desert wastes I feel no dread,
Fearless I walk the trackless sea;
I care not where my way is led,
Since all my life is life with Thee.

O Christ, through changeful years my Guide
My Comforter in sorrow’s night,
My Friend, when friendless—still abide,
My Lord, my Counselor, my Light.

My time, my powers, I give to Thee;
My inmost soul ’tis Thine to move;
I wait for Thy eternity,
I wait, in peace, in praise, in love.