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