1 When sins and fears prevailing, rise,
And fainting hope almost expires;
Jesus to thee I lift mine eyes,
To thee I breathe my soul's desires.

2 Art thou not mine, my living Lord!
And can my hope, my comfort die,
Fix'd on thy everlasting word
That word which built the earth and sky!

3 If my immortal Saviour lives,
Then my immortal life is sure;
His word a firm foundation gives,
Here, let me build, and rest secure.

4 Here, O my soul, thy trust repose;
If Jesus is for ever mine,
Not death itself, that last of foes
Shall break a union so divine.