1  Abiding, oh, so wondrous sweet,

    I'm resting at the Savior's feet;

    I trust in Him, I'm satisfied,

    I'm resting in the Crucified.

 2  He speaks, and by His word is giv'n

    His peace, a blessed gift from heav'n;

    Not as the world He peace doth give,

    'Tis through this hope my soul shall live.

 3  I live; not I; 'tis He alone

    By whom the mighty work is done;

    Dead to myself, alive to Him,

    I count all loss His rest to gain.

 4  Now rest, my heart, the work is done,

    I'm saved through the Eternal Son;

    Let all my pow'rs my soul employ,

    To tell the world my peace and joy.