A long time I wandered in darkness and sin,
And wondered if ever the light would shine in;
I heard Christian friends speak of raptures divine,
And I wished—how I wished—that their Savior were mine.
I wished He were mine, yes, I wished He were mine;
I wished—how I wished—that their Savior were mine.
I heard the glad Gospel of “good will to men”;
I read “whosoever” again and again;
I said to my soul, “Can that promise be thine?”
And then began hoping that Jesus was mine.
I hoped He was mine, yes, I hoped He was mine,
And then began hoping that Jesus was mine.
Oh, mercy surprising! He saves even me!
“Thy portion forever,” He says, “will I be”;
On His Word I am resting—assurance divine:
I am “hoping” no longer, I know He is mine.
I know He is mine, yes, I know He is mine,
I’m hoping no longer—I know He is mine.