Abiding Rest

My soul has found ab­id­ing rest

Where liv­ing fount­ains flow;

Where vales are in their ver­dure dressed

And Sha­ron’s ros­es blow.

’Tis but a step to Sy­char’s well

Where Je­sus speaks to me;

And oft by faith I seem to dwell

With Him in Ga­li­lee.

All gird­ed for the vic­tor’s race

I run to win the prize

That Je­sus of­fers by His grace

To faith’s as­pir­ing eyes.

I trust Him still when for­tunes frown

His serv­ice is so sweet

I lay my hea­vy bur­den down

At my Re­deem­er’s feet.

I see the shin­ing way He went

To do His Fa­ther’s will;

And fol­low on in sweet con­tent

So glad He loves me still.

And if I may but serve Him here

In my own hum­ble way

I know that I shall have no fear

In that eter­nal day.