O Full of Grace! when sufferers tell
The grief Thou knowest, Lord, so well,
Come, with the broken-hearted dwell,
In mercy, Lord.

V

When, lured by hope, our spirits rise
To where Thou beckonest from the skies;
Then, be eternal life the prize,
In mercy, Lord.

I

I wandered sore distressed,
All weary and forlorn;
I had no place to rest,
Of all my pleasures shorn,--
My thirsting spirit sighed,
And in the desert cried.

II

The Shepherd heard my cry,
Who came His flock to find,
And drew in mercy nigh,
For He is wondrous kind;
His winning voice awoke
My spirit as He spoke.

III

He bade my wandering cease,
And gave my heart a home,
That, from the bliss of peace,
I might no longer roam;--
He gave me hope for fears,
And lasting joy for tears.

I

God sent me to the desert wild,
Where all is parched with endless drought,
For I had grown a wayward child,
And now my sin had found me out;--
He sent me to the desert drear,
And, ah! my soul was charged with fear.

II

I wandered where the brooks were dry,
While memory wove a dismal song,
And to my God I raised my cry,
And sang my dirge the whole day long;--
For I was in the desert drear,
And, ah! my soul was charged with fear.

III

The God of grace His comfort sent,
And soon the desert blossomed fair,
While round my path, where'er I went,
Sweet flowers poured forth their odours rare;--
He sent me to a desert drear,
Now flowers and luscious fruits appear.

IV

O God, when by the path of sin,
We reach the land where famine reigns;
And dread possesses all within,
And all around are woes and pains;--
Then make the world a desert rare,
Of joys upspringing everywhere.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hymns from the East, by John Brownlie

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