Whom have we, Lord, but Thee,
Soul-thirst to satisfy?
Exhaustless spring! the waters free!
All other streams are dry.

Our hearts by Thee are set
On brighter things above;
Strange that we ever should forget
Thine own most faithful love.

Yet oft we credit not
He freely gives as God,
Though well we know our happy lot
In trusting to His blood.

None like the ransomed host
That precious blood have known;
Redemption gives faith’s holy boast
To draw so near the throne.

Higher and higher yet!
Pleading that same life-blood;
We taste the love that knows no let,
Of Abba as of God.