2 Yes! he is mine! and nought of earthly things, Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power, The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings, Could tempt me to forego his love an hour. Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that’s thine! Go! I my Saviour’s am, and he is mine. 3 The good I have is from his stores supplied; The ill is only what he deems the best; He for my Friend, I’m rich with nought beside; And poor without him, though of all possest: Changes may come; I take, or I resign; Content, while I am his, while he is mine. 792 11s. Precious promises. How firm a foundation, you saints of the Lord, Is laid for your faith in his excellent word! What more can he say than to you he has said, You who unto Jesus for refuge have fled? 2 In every condition, in sickness, in health, In poverty’s vale, or abounding in wealth; At home and abroad, on the land, on the sea, As your days may demand, so your succor shall be. 3 Fear not—I am with you; O be not dismayed! I, I am your God, and will still give you aid; I’ll strengthen you, help you, and cause you to stand, Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand. 4 When through the deep waters I cause you to go, The rivers of sorrow shall not you o’erflow; For I will be with you, your troubles to bless, And sanctify to you your deepest distress. 5 When through fiery trials your pathway shall lie, My grace, all-sufficient, shall be your supply: The flame shall not hurt you: I only design Your dross to consume, and your gold to refine. 6 E’en down to old age all my people shall prove My sovereign, eternal, unchangeable love; And when hoary hairs shall their temples adorn, Like lambs they shall still in my bosom be borne. 7 The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose, I will not, I can not, desert to his foes; That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I’ll never—no, never—no, never forsake! 793 10s. Rejoicing in hope. Rom. 12:12. Joyfully, joyfully, onward I move, Bound to the land of bright spirits above; Angelic choristers, sing as I come— Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home! Soon, with my pilgrimage ended below, Home to the land of bright spirits I go; Pilgrim and stranger, no more shall I roam: Joyfully, joyfully, resting at home. 2 Friends fondly cherished, but passed on before; Waiting, they watch me approaching the shore; Singing to cheer me through death’s chilling gloom: Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home. Sounds of sweet melody full on my ear; Harps of the blesséd, your voices I hear! Rings with the harmony heaven’s high dome— Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home.