284- 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 Till it a master find;
It has no 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 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.