Make me a captive, Lord,

Make me a captive, Lord, And then I shall be free; Force me to render up my sword, And I shall conq'ror be. I sink in life's alarms When by myself I stand, Imprisons me within Thy arms, And strong shall be my hand.

My heart is weak and poor Until it master find: It has not spring of action sure, It varies with the wind; It cannot freely move Till Thou hast wrought its chain; Enslave it with Thy matchless love, And deathless it shall reign.

My power is faint and low Till I have learned to serve: It wants the needed fire to glow, It wants the breeze to nerve; It cannot drive the world Until itself be driven; Its flag can only be unfurled When Thou shalt breathe from heaven.

My will is not my own Till Thou hast made it Thine; If it would reach the monarch's throne It must its crown resign; It only stands unbent Amid the clashing strife, When on Thy bosom it has leant, And found in Thee its life.