1 Not what I am, O Lord, but what Thou art; That, that alone, can be my soul’s true rest; Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt depart, And stills the tempest of my tossing breast. 2 It blesses now, and shall for ever bless; It saves me now, and shall for ever save; It holds me up in days of helplessness, It bears me safely o’er each swelling wave. 3 ’Tis what I know of Thee, my Lord and God, That fills my soul with peace, my lips with song; Thou art my health, my joy, my staff, my rod; Leaning on Thee, in weakness I am strong. 4 I am all want and hunger; this faint heart, Pines for a fullness which it finds not here; Dear ones are leaving, and as they depart, Make room within for something yet more dear. 5 More of Thyself, Oh, show me, hour by hour; More of Thy glory, O my God and Lord; More of Thyself in all Thy grace and power; More of Thy love and truth, Incarnate Word.