Photograph by Brian T. Murphy
Jesus, I long for thee,
And sigh for Canaan's shore,
Thy lovely face to see,
And all my warfare o'er;
Here billows break upon my breast
And brooding sorrows steal my rest.
I pant, I groan, I grieve
For my untoward heart;
How full of doubts I live,
Though full of grace thou art!
What poor returns, I make to thee
For all the mercy shown to me!
And must I ever smart,
A child of sorrows here?
Yet, Lord be near my heart,
To soothe each rising tear;
Then at thy bleeding cross I'll stay,
And sweetly weep my life away.
-John Berridge
