Make me a
captive, Lord,
And then I shall be free.
Force me to render up my sword,
And I shall conqueror be.
I sink in life's alarms
When by myself I stand.
Imprison me within Thine arms,
And strong shall be my hand.
My heart is weak and poor,
When by myself I stand;
It has no spring of action sure;
It varies as the wind.
It cannot freely move
'till thou has wrought its chain.
Enslave it with thy matchless love,
And deathless it shall reign.
My will is not my own
'till Thou hast made it Thine.
If it would gain a monarch's throne,
It must its crown resign.
It only stands unbent,
Amidst the clashing strife,
When on thy bosom it has lent,
And found in thee its life.
