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O Name, all other names above,
What art Thou not to me?
Now I have learned to trust Thy love
And cast my care on Thee.
What is our being but a cry,
A restless longing still,
Which Thou alone canst satisfy,
Alone Thy fullness fill?
Thrice blessèd be the holy souls
That lead the way to Thee,
That burn upon the martyr-rolls
And lists of prophecy.
And sweet it is to tread the ground
O’er which their faith hath trod;
But sweeter far, when Thou art found,
The soul’s own sense of God.
The thought of Thee all sorrow calms,
Our anxious burdens fall;
His crosses turn to triumph-palms
Who finds in God his all.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1878,1885
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Bible Refs:
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Phil 2:9-10;
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MUSIC
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Name:
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WOODOAKS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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1912
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echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
