My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?@Psalm 42:2

Hen­ry F. Lyte, Po­ems, Chief­ly Re­li­gious, 1833 & 1845.

Al­ice Ro­bert Ro­berts (1863–?) (🔊 pdf nwc).

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Henry F. Lyte (1793–1847)

Lone amidst the dead and dying,
Lord, my spirit faints for Thee;
Longing, thirsting, drooping, sighing,
When shall I Thy presence see?

O how altered my condition;
Late I led the joyous throng;
Beat my heart with full fruition,
Flowed my lips with grateful song.

Now the storm goes wildly o’er me,
Waves on waves my soul confound:
Naught but boding fears before me,
Naught but threatening foes around.

Save me, save me, O my Father!
To Thy faithful word I cling;
Thence, my soul, thy comfort gather;
Hope, and thou again shalt sing.