My heart is resting, O my God,
I will give thanks and sing;
My heart is at the secret source
Of every precious thing.

I thirst for springs of heavenly life,
And here an day they rise;
I seek the treasure of Thy love,
And close at hand it lies.

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.

There is a certainty of love
That sets my heart at rest;
A calm assurance for today,
That to be poor is hest;

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.