2 When the thirsting soul turneth away from the springs
Of the pleasures this world can bestow,
And sighs for another, and flutters its wings,
Impatient,—to whom shall it go?
3 O, blest be that light which has parted the clouds,
And a path to the wanderer can show;
That pierces the veil which the future enshrouds,
And tells us to whom we should go!
213.
C. M.