For Thou who knowest, Lord, how soon
Our weak heart clings,
Hast given us joys, tender and true,
Yet all with wings,
So that we see, gleaming on high,
Diviner things.
I thank thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept
The best in store;
I have enough, yet not too much,
Too long for more;
A yearning for a deeper peace
Not known before.
I thank ‘Thee, Lord, that here our souls
Though amply blest,
Can never find, although they seek
A perfect rest
Nor ever shall, until they lean
On Jesus’ breast