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O God, a world of empty show,
Dark wilds of restless, fruitless quest
Lie round me wheresoe'er I go:
Within, with Thee, is rest.
And sated with the weary sum
Of all men think, and hear, and see,
O more than mother's heart, I come,
A tired child to Thee.
Sweet childhood of eternal life!
Whilst troubled days and years go by,
In stillness hushed from stir and strife,
Within Thine Arms I lie.
Thine Arms, to whom I turn and cling
With thirsting soul that longs for Thee;
As rain that makes the pastures sing,
Art Thou, my God, to me.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 8 8 6
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1898
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Bible Refs:
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Is 40:11;
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echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
