"My Soul Thirsteth For Thee." Psalm 63.1

by F. McCormick | Category: General | Oct 1943

Out in a desert land, far from my home,

My soul has wandered oft, and as I roam

On barren mountains, bleak and cold and bare,

Where water scarce is found, and pasture's rare,

I think of days of sunshine and of rain,

And wonder if they e'er will come again.

My soul doth thirst, with thirst I scarce can bear,

Who for my longing, thirsty soul dost care?

In this parched land, wherein I now do dwell

I long to drink. again of Bethlehem's well.

When Christ the Saviour came from heav'n above,

To manifest the Father's boundless love,

From Him the streams of life did flow apace,

That all might drink and live, through sov'reign grace.

By this sweet Fountain, let my soul remain;

There let me drink and drink again.

That I my pilgrim journey may pursue

Along the rugged path, God's. will to do.

Midst conflict, storm, and sorrow and distress

My onward, upward, homeward way I press.

'Gainst Satan's fierce temptations and earth's woe

Along the narrow path my feet must go,

Misunderstood by many all around,

Who spread their nets, and seek me to confound.

'Tis all unfriendly, this dark world of sin,

To those who would the heavenly triumph win.

Nought that this world may give will satisfy

My longing, thirsty soul, and so I cry

To God, my God, in this poor, weary land,

Lead me to Love's clear Fountain with Thy hand,

To Calv'ry's fountain draw my soul anew.

He oft has softly whispered, " 'Tis for you;"

For from the riven Rock clear waters flow.

'Tis riv'n for me, that I His peace may know.

My soul's delight! that glorious work complete,

Thither would I direct my wandering feet,

There would I sit, and there my Saviour view,

There quench my thirst, and thus my strength renew.

It is enough-He died; He rose; He lives;

Turns dark to light, and sweet for bitter gives.

Thy matchless grace, which is so full and free,

Has drawn my soul, with longing after Thee

Thy glorious Person and Thy wondrous love.

This aching heart cries out to Thee above,

'Tis only Thee, my God, can'st satisfy.

My yearnings Thou alone can'st pacify.

How often then, I wish the journey o'er

That I may be with Thee for evermore.

When at the last, my journey is complete,

And He and I in yon bright glory meet,

I'll praise Him for the Elim springs below,

And never from His presence will I go.

I'll rest, and rest for ever, in that home,

And nevermore on barren mountains roam.

The blessed Fount of living waters He

Unfailing springs, for all eternity.

F. McCormick | Oct 1943
General

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