My heart is resting, O my God,

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

Oh, peace of God that passeth thought, I daily, hourly sing; My heart is at the secret source Of every precious thing.

Now this frail vessel Thou hast made, No hand but Thine shall fill; The waters of the earth have failed, And I am thirsty still.

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

A glad, new song is in my mouth, To long-loved music set, A song of praise for all the grace I have not tasted yet.

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 best.

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.