Along the way, I’ve seen His hand,
Upon the Potter’s wheel I’ve known,
The press that causes me to stand,
In “grace and truth” from heaven shone… In righteousness not my own.
I’ve been in studies tall and wide,
Rubbed shoulders with great, learned men;
With coveted books on every side,
As mysteries opened again and again… As holy truths came crashing in.
I count each portion a privilege,
With gratitude I receive each part;
And still my soul stands on the edge,
With simple yearnings for His heart… That He alone would own my heart.
I long to walk with the Chief Shepherd,
Through lands that know not His great Name,
To spread abroad His precious Word,
To pray and labor for His fame… To pray and labor for His fame.
There is no cost too great to pay,
No sacrifice to measure out,
There is no reason left to stay,
When tens of millions walk about… In tombs of sin they grope about.
When my dull heart catches a glimpse,
Of Christ my treasure and my friend,
Possessing nothing makes most sense,
That I might love Him ’til the end… That I might fear and love Him then.
I have no claim upon this life,
No case to plead, no rights to clutch,
There is no place for fear or strife,
Just let me know His kindly touch… To be at rest within His touch.
And when my frame shall meet its end,
However it comes, ’twill be all Grace,
For then the veil of dust shall rend,
And I shall look upon His face… Oh, I shall see Him face-to-face.