1 Make me a captive, Lord,
And then I shall be free;
Force me to render up my sword,
And I shall conqueror be.

2 I sink in life’s alarms
When by myself I stand;
Imprison me within Thine arms,
And strong shall be my hand.

3 My heart is weak and poor
Until it master find;
It has no spring of action sure.
It varies with the wind.

4 It cannot freely move
Till Thou hast wrought its chain;
Enslave it with Thy matchless love,
And deathless it shall reign.

5 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;

6 It only stands unbent
Amid the clashing strife,
When on Thy bosom it has leant,
And found in Thee its life.