Ps. lxxxiv. 4.
Draw me to Thee,
till far within Thy rest,
In stillness of Thy
peace, Thy voice I hear--
For ever quieted
upon Thy breast,
So
loved, so near.
By mystery of Thy
touch my spirit thrilled,
O
Magnet all Divine;
The hunger of my
soul for ever stilled,
For
Thou art mine.
For me, O Lord, the
world is all too small,
For I have seen Thy
face,
Where Thine eternal
love irradiates all
Within
Thy secret place.
And therefore from
all others, from all else,
Draw
Thou my soul to Thee . . .
. . . Yea - Thou
hast broken the enchanter's spells,
And
I am free.
Now in the haven of
untroubled rest
I
land at last,
The hunger, and the
thirst, and weary quest
For
ever past.
There, Lord, to
lose, in bliss of Thine embrace
The
recreant will;
There, in the
radiance of Thy blessed Face,
Be
hushed and still;
There, speechless
at Thy pierced Feet
See
none and nought beside,
And know but this -
that Thou art sweet,
That
I am satisfied.
G. T. S.
