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Jesus, I my cross have taken,
all to leave and follow thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition,
all I've sought or hoped or known.
Yet how rich is my condition!
God and heaven are still mine own.
Man may trouble and distress me,
'twill but drive me to thy breast.
Life with trials hard may press me;
heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
O 'tis not in grief to harm me
while thy love is left to me;
o 'twere not in joy to charm me,
were that joy unmixed with thee.
Take, my soul, thy full salvation;
rise o'er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station
something still to do or bear:
think what Spirit dwells within thee;
what a Father's smile is thine;
what a Savior died to win thee,
child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?
Haste then on from grace to glory,
armed by faith, and winged by prayer,
heaven's eternal day's before thee,
God's own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;
hope soon change to glad fruition,
faith to sight, and prayer to praise.