O not my own these verdant hills

Verse 1

Oh, not my own these verdant hills, And fruits and flow’rs, and stream, and wood; But His who all with glory fills, Who bought me with His precious blood.

Verse 2

Oh, not my own this wondrous frame, Its curious work, its living soul; But His who for my ransom came; Slain for my sake, He claims the whole.

Verse 3

Oh, not my own the grace that keeps My feet from fierce temptation free; Oh, not my own the thought that leaps, Adoring, blessed Lord, to Thee.

Verse 4

Oh, not my own; I’ll soar and sing, When life, with all its toils, is o’er, And Thou Thy trembling Lamb shalt bring Safe home to wander nevermore.