And Art Thou, Gracious Master, Gone?

And art Thou

gra­cious Mas­ter

gone

A man­sion to pre­pare for me?

Shall I be­hold Thee on the throne

And there for ev­er sit with Thee?

Then let the world ap­prove or blame

I’ll tri­umph in Thy glo­ri­ous name.

Should I to gain the world’s ap­plause

Or to es­cape its harm­less frown

Refuse to coun­te­nance Thy cause

And make Thy peo­ple’s lot my own:

What shame would fill me in that day

When Thou Thy glo­ry wilt dis­play!

And what is man

or what his smile?

The ter­ror of his an­ger

what?

Like grass he flour­ish­es a while

But soon his place shall know him not.

Thro’ fear of such a one shall I

The Lord of Heav’n and earth de­ny?

No! let the world cast out my name

And vile ac­count me if they will;

If to con­fess the Lord be shame

I pur­pose to be vil­er still.

For Thee

my God

I all re­sign

Content if I can call Thee mine.

What trans­port then shall fill my heart

When Thou my worth­less name wilt own;

When I shall see Thee as Thou art

And know as I my­self am known!

From sin and fear and sor­row free

My soul shall find its rest in Thee.