I come to you once more my God!
No longer will I roam;
For I have sought the wide world through,
And never found a home.

Though bright and many are the spots,
Where I have built a nest,
Yet in the brightest still I pined,
For more abiding rest.

Riches could bring me joy and power,
And they were fair to see:
Yet gold was but a sorry god,
To serve instead of you.

The honour and the world's good word,
Appeared a nobler faith:
Yet could I rest on bliss that hung,
And trembled on a breath.

The pleasure of the passing hour,
My spirit next could wile:
But soon, too soon, my heart fell sick,
Of pleasures weary smile.

More selfish grown, I worshipped health,
The flush of manhood's power;
But then it came and went so quick,
It was but for an hour.

And thus a not unkindly world,
Has done its best for me;
Yet I have found, O God! No rest,
No harbour short of you.

For you have made this wondrous soul,
All for yourself alone;
Ah, send your sweet transforming grace.
To make it more your own.