O my soul, what means this sadness?

Wherefore art thou thus cast down?

Let thy griefs be turned to gladness,

Bid thy restless fears be gone:

Look to Jesus,

And rejoice in his dear name.

Oh that I could now adore him,

Like the heavenly host above,

Who for ever bow before him,

And unceasing sing his love!

Happy songsters!

When shall I your chorus join?

Thou shalt arise, and mercy have

Upon thy Sion yet;

The time to favour her is come,

The time that thou hast set.

For in her rubbish and her stones

Thy servants pleasure take;

Yea, they the very dust thereof

Do favour for her sake.

When Sion by the mighty Lord

Built up again shall be,

Then shall her gracious God appear

In glorious majesty.

Oft in sorrow, oft in woe,

Onward, Christians, onward go;

Fight the fight, maintain the strife,

Strengthen’d with the bread of life.



Let your drooping hearts be glad;

March in heavenly armour clad;

Fight, nor think the battle long,

Soon shall victory tune your song.



Let not sorrow dim your eye,

Soon shall every tear be dry;

Let not fears your course impede,

Great your strength if great your need.



Onward, then, to glory move,

More than conquerors ye shall prove;

Though opposed by many a foe,

Christian soldiers, onward go.

Now doth my soul resolve indeed

To wound her Lord no more;

Hence from my heart, ye sins, begone,

For Jesus I adore.

Furnish me, Lord, with heav’nly arms

From grace’s magazine,

And I’ll proclaim eternal war

With every darling sin.

No more, ye lusts, shall ye command,

No more will I obey;

Stretch out, O God, thy conqu’ring hand,

And drive thy foes away!

Look upon me, Lord, I pray thee,

Let thy Spirit dwell in mine;

Thou hast sought me, thou hast bought me,

Only thee to know I pine.

Let me find thee!

Take my heart, and own me thine!

Nought I ask for, nought I strive for,

But thy grace so rich and free;

That thou givest whom thou lovest,

And who truly cleave to thee.

Let me find thee!

He hath all things who hath thee.