1  My heart is resting, O my God,

       I will give thanks and sing;

    My heart is at the secret source

       Of every precious thing.

 2  Now this frail vessel Thou hast made,

       No hand but Thine shall fill;

    The waters of the earth have failed,

       And I am thirsty still.

 3  I thirst for springs of heavenly life,

       And here all day they rise;

    I seek the treasure of Thy love,

       And close at hand it lies.

 4  A glad, new song is in my mouth,

       To long-loved music set,

    A song of praise for all the grace

       I have not tasted yet.

 5  I have a heritage of joy

       That yet I must not see;

    The hand that bled to make it mine

       Is keeping it for me.

 6  There is a certainty of love

       That sets my heart at rest;

    A calm assurance for today

       That to be poor is best.

 7  A prayer reposing on His truth,

       Who hath made all things mine;

    That draws my captive will to Him,

       And makes it one with Thine.