Sigh. Contentment. Peace and quiet joy.
Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee;
Take my hands, and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love;
At the impulse of Thy love;
Take my feet, and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee,
Take my voice and let me sing
Always only for my King;
Always only for my King;
Take my lips, and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee,
Take my silver and my gold,
Not a mite would I withhold:
Not a mite would I withhold
Take my will, and make it Thine;
It shall be no longer mine:
Take my heart, it is Thine own;
It shall be Thy royal throne,
It shall be Thy royal throne.
Take my love, my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure store:
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee,
Ever, only, all for Thee.
Frances Ridley Havergal