 | Morning Glories : |  |
CONSOLATION.
Dear Lord, I oft am bowed in grief,
Then earthly comforts flee;
Naught else affords the sweet relief
Which comes alone from thee.
Then earthly comforts flee;
Naught else affords the sweet relief
Which comes alone from thee.
When sorrows like an angry sea
Sweep inward o'er my soul,
Then helpless, Lord, I fly to Thee,
The waves thou dost control.
Sweep inward o'er my soul,
Then helpless, Lord, I fly to Thee,
The waves thou dost control.
Thy tender touch quick banisheth
The pain within my breast;
The trembling tear soon vanisheth
At Thy divine behest.
The pain within my breast;
The trembling tear soon vanisheth
At Thy divine behest.
How vain is life and its delight
When my own path I choose;
As lonely wanderer by night
My way I quickly loose.
When my own path I choose;
As lonely wanderer by night
My way I quickly loose.
But, O, what comfort, Lord, is mine,
What peace it doth afford;
To talk within the light divine,
Shed by thy precious word.
What peace it doth afford;
To talk within the light divine,
Shed by thy precious word.
| Morning Glories : | |