« Prev 86: I wandered sore distressed Next »
167

John Brownlie

6,6,6,6,6,6

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.

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.

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.

« Prev 86: I wandered sore distressed Next »
Please login or register to save highlights and make annotations
Corrections disabled for this book
Proofing disabled for this book
Printer-friendly version





Advertisements



| Define | Popups: Login | Register | Prev Next | Help |