Friday, May 13, 2016
O! when the exile views his home;
The banish'd child his father's face;
The traveller, long condemn'd to roam,
His native fields, his resting-place;
What sweet emotions fill the mind!
What joy, what blessedness they feel!
My God! these joys are all combin'd,
When at thy mercy-seat I kneel.
Thou art my dwelling-place, my rest,
My Father, in whose smile I live:
All I desire to make me blest,
That smile alone can amply give.
No longer now my thoughts I waste
On earthly things once loved by me:
Far sweeter, purer joys I taste,
My God! in communing with thee.