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Ear-ly, my God, with-out de-lay
I haste to seek Thy face;
My thirs-ty spir-it faints a-way,
With-out Thy cheer-ing grace,
With-out Thy cheer-ing grace.
So pil-grims on the scorch-ing sand,
Be-neath a burn-ing sky,
Long for a cool-ing stream at hand,
And they must drink or die,
And they must drink or die.
I've seen Thy glo-ry and Thy power
Through all Thy tem-ple shine;
My God, re-peat that heaven-ly hour,
That vi-sion so di-vine,
That vi-sion so di-vine.
Not all the bless-ings of a feast
Can please my soul so well,
As when Thy rich-er grace I taste,
And in Thy pres-ence dwell,
And in Thy pres-ence dwell.
Not life it-self, with all her joys,
Can my best pass-ions move,
Or raise so high my cheer-ful voice
As Thy for-giv-ing love,
As Thy for-giv-ing love.
Thus till my last ex-pir-ing day
I'll bless my God and King;
Thus will I lift my hands to pray,
And tune my lips to sing,
And tune my lips to sing.
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