1 

Abiding, oh, so wondrous sweet,

I'm resting at the Savior's feet;

I trust in Him, I'm satisfied,

I'm resting in the Crucified.

 2 

He speaks, and by His word is giv'n

His peace, a blessed gift from heav'n;

Not as the world He peace doth give,

'Tis through this hope my soul shall live.

 3 

I live; not I; 'tis He alone

By whom the mighty work is done;

Dead to myself, alive to Him,

I count all loss His rest to gain.

 4 

Now rest, my heart, the work is done,

I'm saved through the Eternal Son;

Let all my pow'rs my soul employ,

To tell the world my peace and joy.