Poems (Hoffman)/The Longing of the Soul
THE LONGING OF THE SOUL
(As the hart panteth after the waterbrooks, sopanteth my Soul after Thee, O God!—Ps. 42:2.)
Locked in this prison house of clayMy Spirit pants to be away,And mourns its low estate;Flutters and struggles to be free,Reaches and longs, O Lord, for Thee! Why must it wait?
A thousand wrecks around me lie,These all have failed to satisfy;Saviour, I prayTo anchor on that blessed shore,Where sin and sorrow wound no more, Through endless day.
In yonder heaven of delightOh, to awake from life's dark night,And meet my King!Behold the beauty of His face,The glory of His matchless grace Forever sing!
They say this world a heaven would beIf purged of woe and misery,Of sin and death;Oh, vain such mockeries to pursue,From Thee, O God, the Spirit drew Its vital breath!
To Thee ascend its quenchless fires,To Thee it evermore aspires;Without Thy faceEarth might take on the hues of Heaven,Yet would the Soul with longing riven Pant for its natal place.
Peace, panting Soul, on holier sodHappy forever with thy GodThou shalt abide;Soon these frail prison bars shall break,The fluttering Spirit shall awake And shall be satisfied.