I journey through a desert drear and wild,
Yet is my heart by such sweet thoughts beguiled
Of Him on whom I lean, my strength, my stay,
That I forget the sorrows of the way.
Thoughts of His love, the root of every grace
Which finds in this poor heart a dwelling place,
The sunshine of my soul, than day more bright,
And my calm pillow of repose by night.
Thoughts of His sojourn in this vale of tears:
The tale of love unfolded in those years
Of sinless sufferings and patient grace,
I love again and yet again to trace.
Thoughts of His glory: on the cross I gaze,
And there behold its sad yet healing rays;
Beacon of hope, which lifted up on high
Illumes with heavenly light the tear-dimmed eye.
Thoughts of His coming—for that joyful day
In patient hope I watch and wait and pray;
The dawn draws nigh, the midnight shadows flee;
Ο what a sunrise will that advent be!
Thus while I journey on, my Lord to meet,
My thoughts and meditations are so sweet
Of Him on whom I lean, my strength, my stay,
That I forget the sorrows of the way.