My Saviour

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D. C. · May 12, 1904

UNDER an Eastern sky, Amid a rabble cry, A Man went forth to die For me.

Thorn-crowned his blessed head, Blood-stained his weary tread, Cross-laden, on he sped For me.

Pierced were his hands and feet, Three hours on him beat Fierce rays of noontide heat, For me.

Thus wert thou made all mine. Lord, make me wholly thine; Grant grace and strength divine To me.

In thought and word and deed Thy will to do,— O, lead My soul, e’en though it bleed, To thee.

-- Selected.