1 My God, my portion, and my love, My everlasting all, I've none but thee in heaven above, Or on this earthly ball.
2 [What empty things are all the skies, And this inferior clod! There's nothing here deserves my joys, There's nothing like my God.]
3 [In vain the bright, the burning sun Scatters his feeble light; 'Tis thy sweet beams create my noon; If thou withdraw, 'tis night.
4 And whilst upon my restless bed, Amongst the shades I roll, If my Redeemer shew his head 'Tis morning with my soul.]
5 To thee we owe our wealth and friends, And health, and safe abode; Thanks to thy Name for meaner things, But they are not my God.
6 How vain a toy is glittering wealth, If once compar'd to thee; Or what's my safety, or my health, Or all my friends to me?
7 Were I possessor of the earth, And call'd the stars my own Without thy graces and thyself I were a wretch undone.
8 Let others stretch their arms like seas, And grasp in all the shore, Grant me the visits of thy face, And I desire no more.