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 My heart is weak and poor till it a master find It has no spring of action sure, it varies with the wind It cannot freely move till Thou has wrought its chain Enslave it with Thy matchless love, and deathless it shall reign 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 it's life Amen