Indexes for The Sacred Harp, 1991 Edition

Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee;
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,
Thou, from hence, my all shall be.
Perish, ev’ry fond ambition,
All I’ve sought or hoped or known;
Yet how rich is my condition,
God and heav’n is still my own.

Let the world despise and leave me;
They have left my Savior, too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me;
Thou art not, like them, untrue.
And while Thou shall smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me;
Show Thy face, and all is bright.

Man may trouble and distress me,
’Twill but drive me to Thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me;
Heav’n will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me,
While Thy love is left to me!
Oh ’twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmixed with Thee.