John Brownlie (trans.) · 86 of 99

86: I wandered sore distressed

I wandered sore distressed, All weary and forlorn; I had no place to rest, Of all my pleasures shorn-- My thirsting spirit sighed, And in the desert cried.

The Shepherd heard my cry, Who came His flock to find, And drew in mercy nigh, For He is wondrous kind; His winning voice awoke My spirit as He spoke.

He bade my wandering cease, And gave my heart a home, That, from the bliss of peace, I might no longer roam; He gave me hope for fears, And lasting joy for tears.