There's only One, on whose dear arm
We safely lay our thoughts to rest;
There's only One, who knows the depth
Of sorrow in each stricken breast.

There's only One, who marks the wish,
Nor cruelly, severely blames;
There's only One, too full of love
To put aside the weakest claims.

There's only One, when none are by,
To wipe away the falling tear;
There's only One, to heal the wound
And stay the weak one's timid fear.

There's only One, who can support,
And who sufficient grace can give,
To bear up under every grief,
And spotless in this world to live.

Thou art the One, the only One,
For whom no love too warm can flow;
Thou art the One, the only One,
In whom there's perfect rest below.