God's all my portion, all my good,
From his rich mercy flows;
And his good Providence secures
The blessings he bestows.
I envy not the great man's state,
Nor pine to see his store;
With what I have I'm pleased much,
With what I hope for more.
Then let me make the Lord my trust,
And practise all that's good;
So shall I dwell among the just,
And he'll provide me food.
I charge my thoughts, Be humble still,
And all thy carriage mild,
Content, my Father, with thy will,
And quiet as a child.
The meek, at last, the earth possess,
They are the Heirs of Heaven;
True riches, with abundant peace,
To humble souls are given.