568. 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 conqueror be. I sink in life’s alarms when by myself I stand; Imprison me within Thine arms, and strong shall be my hand. My heart is weak and poor until it a master find; It has no spring of action sure, it varies with the wind. It cannot freely move till Thou has wrought its chain; Enslave it with Thy matchless love, and deathless it shall reign. My will is not my own till Thou hast made it Thine; If it would reach a 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.