O God, whose precious love
Awaits the heart yet unredeemed,
What wooing tenderness
Of infinite unfoldment sweet
Arrests and heals my sense,
Unburdened of its dross!
Strengthen my hold on Thee,
Till free and unbeguiled,
And like a child,
I place my trusting hand in Thine!
Dear God, how idly unresponsive lies my lyre,
My heart bereft of Thee grows cold and cheerless as the morn
Without the happy sunshine and the song of birds.
In falt'ring, feeble accents, all unwedded to my heart,
In vain I try Thy beauteous love and glory to adore.
Oh, lighten Thou this dream of sense
And waken me to think, to feel,
To praise Thy wondrous works divine.
In streams of overflowing gratitude
Wash Thou away the stain
Of earth's abandonment,
And draw me closer to Thy heart.
