Abiding, oh, so wondrous sweet ! I'm resting at the Saviour's feet ; I trust in Him ; I'm satisfied, I'm resting in the Crucified !
Abi - - ding, abi - - ding, Oh, how wondrous sweet ! I'm rest - - ing, rest - - ing At the Saviour's feet. . . .
2. He speaks, and by His word is given His peace, a rich foretaste of heaven ; Not as the world, He peace doth give : 'Tis through this hope my soul shall live
3. I live, but through His grace alone; By whom the mighty work is done ; Dead to myself, alive to Him, I count all loss His rest to win.
4. Now rest, my heart, the work is done, I'm saved by faith through Christ the Son ! Let every power my soul employ ? To tell the world my peace and joy.