A Pocket hymn-book, designed as a constant companion for the pious ‎#CXLVII

CXLVII. My God, my portion, and my love

1 My God, my portion, and my love,
My everlasting All,
I've none but thee in heav'n above,
Or on this earthly ball.

2 What empty things are all the skies,
And this inferior clod?
There's nothing here deserves my joys,
There's nothing like my God.

3 In vain the bright, the burning sun,
Scatters his feeble light:
'Tis thy sweet beams create my noon;
If thou withdraw, 'tis night.

4 And whilst upon my restless bed,
Among the shades I roll,
If my Redeemer shews his head,
'Tis morning with my soul.

5 To thee we owe our wealth and friends,
And health, and safe abode:
Thanks to thy name for meaner things,
But they are not my God.

6 How vain a toy is glitt'ring wealth,
If once compar'd to thee?
Or what's my safety or my health,
Or all my friends to me?

7 Were I possessor of the earth,
And call'd the stars my own;
Without thy graces, and thyself,
I were a wretch undone.

8 Let others stretch their arms like seas,
And grasp in all the shore,
Grant me the visits of thy face,
And I desire no more.

Text Information

• First Line: My God, my portion, and my love
• Meter: C. M.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1790
• Topic: Rejoicing

Tune Information

(No tune information)