Amid the thorns that pierce my feet,
One thought remains supremely sweet----
Thou thinkest, Lord, of me !
Thou thinkest, Lord, of me ! . .
Thou thinkest, Lord, of me ! . .
What need I fear when Thou art near,
And thinkest, Lord, of me ?
2 The cares of life come thronging fast,
Upon my soul their shadows cast ;
Their gloom reminds my heart at last----
Thou thinkest, Lord, of me !
3 Let shadows come, let shadows go,
Let life be bright, or dark with woe,
I am content ; for this I know----
Thou thinkest, Lord, of me !