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- I come to thee once more my God,
No longer will I roam,
For I have sought thee 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 thee.
- Then honour and world’s good word
Appear a nobler faith,
Yet could I rest on bliss that hung,
And trembled on a breath.
- For thou has made this wondrous soul,
All for thyself alone.
Ah send thy sweet transforming word,
To make it more thine own.