My stubborn will at last hath yielded;

I would be Thine, and Thine alone,

And this the prayer my lips are bringing,

"Lord, let in me Thy will be done."

I'm tired of sin, footsore and weary,

The darksome path hath dreary grown,

But now a light has ris'n to cheer me;

I find in Thee my Star, my Sun.

Thy precious will, O conqu'ring Savior,

Doth now embrace and compass me;

All discords hushed, my peace a river,

My soul a prisoned bird set free.

Shut in with Thee, O Lord, forever,

My wayward feet no more to roam;

What pow'r from Thee my soul can sever?

The center of God's will my home.