My God, in Thee all Fulness Lies

My God, in Thee all fulness lies,
All want in me, from Thee apart;
In Thee my soul hath endless joys,
In me is but an aching heart;
Poor as the poorest here I pine,
In Thee a heav'nly kingdom's mine.

I leave to Thee whate'er is mine,
And in Thy will I calmly rest;
I know that richest gifts are Thine,
Thou canst and Thou wilt make me blest,
For Thou hath promised, and our Lord
Will never break His promised word.

Thou lov'st me, Father, with the love
Wherewith Thou lovedst Christ Thy Son,
And so a brightness from above
Still glads me though my tears may run,
For in Thy love I find and know
What all the world could ne'er bestow.

Translated from Mein Gott bei dir ist alle Fülle (Anon) by Catherine Winkworth