Far From My Heavenly Home
H
Henry Francis Lyte
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Far from my heavenly home,
Far from my Father’s breast,
Fainting I cry, blest Spirit, come
And speed me to my rest.
My spirit homeward turns
And fain would thither flee;
My heart, O Zion, droops and yearns,
When I remember thee.
To thee, to thee I press,
A dark and toilsome road;
When shall I pass the wilderness,
And reach the saint’s abode?
God of my life, be near;
On Thee my hopes I cast:
O guide me through the desert here,
And bring me home at last.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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