My heart grows faint and my feet oft waver,
But I cling, blessed Lord, to Thee:
Thou wilt hold me fast, and no power can sever,
My soul, blessed Lord, from Thee.
Through sunshine and storm, by faith I can see Thee;
In life, in death, all the way, Thou art near me;
And I cling, blessed Lord, to Thee.

Clara C. Atwood