O Christ, I die, that thou mayst live,
   That thou mayst live in me;
  That all I think or speak or do,
   May be, O Lord, for thee.

  May not the least of self remain,
   But all be put to death.
  Oh, may I nothing do for self,
   Nor draw one selfish breath!

  To have my Savior live in me,
   To occupy the whole,
  To make my heart his royal throne
   And take complete control—

  'Tis all I ask; 'tis all I wish;
   'Tis all my heart's desire,
  Content if but a wayside bush
   To hold God's holy fire.

  Low at thy feet, O Christ, I fall
   A yielded lump of clay,
  For thee to mold me as thou wilt,
   To have thy own sweet way.