Jesus, in whom the weary find

Their late and permanent repose;

Physician of the sin-sick mind,

Relieve my wants, assuage my woes;

And let my soul on Thee be cast,

Till life’s fierce tyranny be past.

Loosed from my God, and far removed,

Long have I wander’d to and fro,

O’er earth in endless circles roved,

Nor found whereon to rest below;

Back to my God at last I fly,

For, O! the waters still are high.

Selfish pursuits, and nature’s maze,

The things of earth, for Thee I leave;

Put forth Thy hand, Thy hand of grace,

Into the ark of love receive;

Take this poor fluttering soul to rest,

And lodge it, Saviour, in Thy breast.

Fill with inviolable peace,

’Stablish, and keep my settled heart;

In Thee may all my wanderings cease,

From Thee no more may I depart,

Thy utmost goodness call’d to prove,

Loved with an everlasting love.