Make Me a Captive, Lord

Verse 1

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

I sink in life’s alarms
when by myself I stand;
imprison me
within thine arms,
and strong shall
be my hand.

Verse 2

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.

Verse 3

My power is faint and low
till I have learned to serve;
it lacks the needed
fire to glow,
it lacks the breeze to nerve.

It cannot drive the world
until itself be driven;
its flag can only be unfurled
when thou shalt
breathe from heaven.

Verse 4

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 stands unbent
amid the clashing strife,
when on thy bosom
it has leant,
and found in thee its life.