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PSALM 63

L. M.

Longing after God; or, The love of God better than life.

108

Great God, indulge my humble claim,

Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest;

The glories that compose thy name

Stand all engaged to make me blest.

Thou great and good, thou just and wise,

Thou art my Father and my God;

And I am thine by sacred ties;

Thy son, thy servant, bought with blood

With heart, and eyes, and lifted hands,

For thee I long, to thee I look,

As travellers in thirsty lands

Pant for the cooling water-brook.

With early feet I love t' appear

Among thy saints, and seek thy face;

Oft have I seen thy glory there,

And felt the power of sovereign grace.

Not fruits nor wines that tempt our taste,

Nor all the joys our senses know,

Could make me so divinely blest,

Or raise my cheerful passions so.

My life itself without thy love

No taste of pleasure could afford;

'Twould but a tiresome burden prove,

If I were banish'd from the Lord.

Amidst the wakeful hours of night,

When busy cares afflict my head,

One thought of thee gives new delight,

And adds refreshment to my bed.

I'll lift my hands, I'll raise my voice,

While I have breath to pray or praise;

This work shall make my heart rejoice,

And spend the remnant of my days.

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