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cccxc. Psalm LXIII.
Early, my God, without delay,
I haste to seek Thy face ; My thirsty spirit faints away
Without Thy cheering grace.
So pilgrims on the scorching sand
Beneath a burning sky Long for a cooling stream at hand,
And they must drink, or die.
I've seen Thy glory and Thy power Through all Thy temple shine ;
My God ! repeat that heavenly hour That vision so divine !
Not life itself, with all her joys, Can my best passions move,
Or raise so high my cheerful voice, As Thy forgiving love.
Thus till my last expiring day I'll bless my God and King ;
Thus will I lift my hands to pray, And tune my lips to sing.
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform ; He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.