The waiting soul

Breathe from the gentle south, [O Lord,

And] cheer me from the north;

Blow on the treasures of Thy word,

And call the spices forth!

[I wish, Thou knowest, to be resign'd,

And wait with patient hope;

But hope delay'd fatigues the mind,

And drinks the spirits up.]

Help me to reach the distant goal;

Confirm my feeble knee;

Pity the sickness of a soul,

That faints for love of Thee!

Cold as I feel this heart of mine,

Yet, since I feel it so,

It yields some hope of life divine

Within, however low.

[I seem forsaken and alone,

I hear the lion roar;

And every door is shut but one,

And that is Mercy's door.]

There, till the dear Deliverer come,

I'll wait with humble prayer;

[And when He calls His exile home,

The Lord shall find him there.]