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!

2 Not here—where all the dreams of bliss deceive us,

Where the worn spirit never gains its goal;

Where, haunted ever by the thought that grieves us,

Across us floods of bitter memory roll.

3 There is a land where every pulse is thrilling

With rapture earth’s sojourners may not know,

Where heaven’s repose the weary heart is stilling,

And peacefully life’s time-tossed currents flow.

4 Far out of sight, while yet the flesh enfolds us,

Lies the fair country where our hearts abide,

And of its bliss is nought more wondrous told us

Than these few words—“I shall be satisfied.”

5 Satisfied! satisfied! The spirit’s yearning

For sweet companionship with kindred minds—

The silent love that here meets no returning—

The inspiration which no language finds—

6 Shall they be satisfied? The soul’s vague longing—

The aching void which nothing earthly fills?

O! what desires upon my soul are thronging

As I look upward to the heavenly hills.

7 Thither my weak and weary steps are tending—

Saviour and Lord! with thy frail child abide!

Guide me toward home, where, all my wanderings ending,

I shall see thee, and “shall be satisfied.”