As pants the hart for living brooks
So pines my soul for Thee;
Away from this lone earth it looks,
And longs Thy face to see.
Thrice Holy One! athirst I am
From man’s false world to fly,
And on the glories of the Lamb
To feast my fasting eye.
‘Tis here, a bleak and barren land,
Where hearts and hopes are vain;
But faith perceives at Thy right hand
Supernal wonders reign.
There, pleasures bloom which cannot lead
Compliant souls to sin;
And all celestial Love decreed,
Victorious martyrs win.
No shades of guilt, or sorrow, now
Athwart remembrance roll;
Eternity unveils its brow,
And God enshrines the soul.
Those pulses of ethereal bliss,
Which here so feebly play,
Shall throb within a realm like this,
Divine beyond decay!
The Past will not return in sighs,
The Future ne’er appall,
The Present charm celestial eyes
With Christ, the All in All.
R. M.