Author:		George Matheson, 1842-1906
Musician:		Joan J. Pinkston, b. 1947

Make me a captive, Lord,
And then I shall be free;
Force me to render up my sword,
And I shall conqu'ror 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 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 pow'r 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 driv'n;
Its flag can only be unfurled
When Thou shalt breathe from heav'n.

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 shall endure,
Amid the clashing strife
When resting in Thine arms secure
It finds in Thee its life.