3 The wrong that pains my soul below 3 O gifts of gifts, O grace of grace, I dare not throne above; I know not of his hate,- I know His goodness and his love. That God should condescend To make thy heart his dwelling-place, And be thy daily friend. 4 And thou, O Lord, by whom are seen 4 Then go not thou in search of him, Thy creatures as they be, Forgive me, if too close I lean My human heart on thee. John G. Whittier, 1807 But to thyself repair; Wait thou within the silence dim And thou shalt find him there. |