Or I felt some strange alarms,
Then my mother's voice would call me,
To the shelter of her arms.
Now what bids my heart rejoice,
Clasped in arms I cannot see?
Hark, I hear a soothing voice
Sweetly whispering, Come to me.
Yes, it calls thee from on high;
Come to God's most holy mountain;
Thou hast drunk the stream of life;—