Text: | Longing for Rest |
Author: | Rev. Henry Francis Tyte |
1 O had I, my Saviour, the wings of a dove,
How soon would I soar to Thy presence above;
How soon would I flee where the weary have rest,
And hide all my cares in Thy sheltering breast.
2 I flutter, I struggle, I pant to get free;
I feel me a captive while banished from Thee:
A pilgrim and stranger, the desert I roam,
And look on to heaven, and long to be home.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | O had I, my Saviour, the wings of a dove |
Title: | Longing for Rest |
Author: | Rev. Henry Francis Tyte |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1895 |