Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/My Soul Thirsteth for God

"My Soul Thirsteth for God."

Thou hidden love of God, whose height, Whose depth unfathomed no man knows;I see from far Thy beauteous light, Inly I sigh for Thy repose;My heart is pained, nor can it beAt rest, till it find rest in Thee.

Is there a thing beneath the sun That strives with Thee my heart to share?Ah! tear it thence, and reign alone, The Lord of every motion there!Then shall my heart from earth he free,When it hath found repose in Thee.

O Lord, Thy sovereign aid impart, To save me from low-thougnted care;Chase this self-will through all my heart, Thro' all its latent mazes there!Make me Thy duteous child, that ICeaseless may "Abba, Father," cry.

Each moment draw from earth away My heart, that lowly waits Thy call:Speak to my inmost soul, and say, "I am thy Love, thy God, thy All!"To feel Thy power, to hear Thy voice,To taste Thy love, be all my choice.