by Arthur Hardy
Lonely? O no, not lonely,
While Jesus standeth near!
He come within the tent door,
I feel his presence here.
Friendless? O no, not friendless
While Jesus is my friend;
I change, but he remaineth
Sure, love to the end.
Weary? Ah, yes, weary;
But leaning on his breast,
My soul hath sweet assurance
Of his eternal rest.
Happy? Ah, yes, happy,
With you no tongue can tell;
O precious, sure possession
From Christ, the living well.