So much have friends deceived me
And fickle lovers grieved me,
Of so much wealth,
And youth, and health
Hath travelling Time relieved me,
That, being thereby set free,
Now back I come to Thee.
By such dark fates befriended,
Deserted, unattended,
O'er hard and rough
I've jogged enough,
Down ways that never ended.
So, footsore though I be,
Here back I come to Thee.
But wouldst Thou further ask me
Of my deserts, or task me
To show Thee why,
Abandoned, I
Seek Thee , ā and so unmask me
Of any proof or plea
That brings me back to Thee:
Lord, in such uncouth places
Have I beheld kind faces,
Where dross for gold
Was bought and sold
Have met such kind embraces, ā
Such memories, oh see!
Have brought me back to Thee!
For man, that was Thy making,
Sleeps long, but at awaking
Finds in his breast
Th' unbidden guest;
So, after all forsaking,
As blind men made me see,
Here back I come to Thee.
A thousand times man faileth,
Him trouble so assaileth;
Heart cries in haste,
" All flesh is waste! "
Yet here, too, love prevaileth.
So, when thereof I taste
In hearts that are not free
To freedom's Home I haste; ā
And back I come to Thee.
And fickle lovers grieved me,
Of so much wealth,
And youth, and health
Hath travelling Time relieved me,
That, being thereby set free,
Now back I come to Thee.
By such dark fates befriended,
Deserted, unattended,
O'er hard and rough
I've jogged enough,
Down ways that never ended.
So, footsore though I be,
Here back I come to Thee.
But wouldst Thou further ask me
Of my deserts, or task me
To show Thee why,
Abandoned, I
Seek Thee , ā and so unmask me
Of any proof or plea
That brings me back to Thee:
Lord, in such uncouth places
Have I beheld kind faces,
Where dross for gold
Was bought and sold
Have met such kind embraces, ā
Such memories, oh see!
Have brought me back to Thee!
For man, that was Thy making,
Sleeps long, but at awaking
Finds in his breast
Th' unbidden guest;
So, after all forsaking,
As blind men made me see,
Here back I come to Thee.
A thousand times man faileth,
Him trouble so assaileth;
Heart cries in haste,
" All flesh is waste! "
Yet here, too, love prevaileth.
So, when thereof I taste
In hearts that are not free
To freedom's Home I haste; ā
And back I come to Thee.