325
Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken
ELLESDIE 8.7.8.7.D.
CONSECRATION
Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee;
All things else I have forsaken;
Thou from hence my all shalt be.
Perish every fond ambition,
All I've sought, or hoped, or known;
Yet how rich is my condition,
While I prove the Lord my own.
Let the world despise and leave me-
They have left my Savior, too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me-
Thou art faithful, Thou art true.
O, 'tis not in grief to harm me,
While Thy love is left to me;
O, 'twere not in joy to charm me,
If that love be hid from me.
Soul, then know thy full salvation;
Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee;
Think what Father's smiles are thine;
Think that Jesus died to win thee;
Child of Heaven, canst thou repine?
Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Armed by faith and winged by prayer;
Heaven's eternal day's before thee;
God's own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee;
All things else I have forsaken;
Thou from hence my all shalt be.
Perish every fond ambition,
All I've sought, or hoped, or known;
Yet how rich is my condition,
While I prove the Lord my own.

Let the world despise and leave me-
They have left my Savior, too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me-
Thou art faithful, Thou art true.
O, 'tis not in grief to harm me,
While Thy love is left to me;
O, 'twere not in joy to charm me,
If that love be hid from me.

Soul, then know thy full salvation;
Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee;
Think what Father's smiles are thine;
Think that Jesus died to win thee;
Child of Heaven, canst thou repine?

Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Armed by faith and winged by prayer;
Heaven's eternal day's before thee;
God's own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.


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   Henry F. Lyte, 1824 (1793-1847) Arr. from Mozart by Hubert P. Main, 1873 (1839 1926)