1 Not here! not here! not where the sparkling waters
Fade into mocking sands as we draw near;
Where in the wilderness each footstep falters,
I shall be satisfied; but O, not here!
Not here where ev’ry dream of bliss deceives us,
Where the worn spirit never gains its goal;
Where haunted ever by the thought that grieves us
Across us floods of bitter mem’ry roll.
2 There is a land where ever pulse is thrilling
With rapture earth’s sojourners never know;
Where heav’n repose the weary heart is stilling
And peacefully life’s time-tossed current’s flow,
Far out of sight, while yet the flesh infolds us
Lies the fair country, where our hearts abide,
And of its bliss is naught more wondrous told us
Than these few words, “I shall be satisfied.”
3 Shall they be satisfied, the soul’s vague longings,
The aching void which nothing earthly fills?
O, what desires upon my soul are thronging
As I look upward to the heav’nly hills,
Thither my weak and weary steps are tending,
Saviour and Lord, with thy frail child abide;
Guide me t’wards home where all my wand’ring ending
I then shall see thee and be “satisfied.”
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