Thy wrestlings on Judea’s hills;
And still thou lovest the quiet spot
Where praise the lowly spirit fills.
4 Now to our souls, withdrawn awhile
From earth’s rude noise, thy face reveal,
And, as we worship, kindly smile,
And for thine own our spirits seal.
5 To thee we bring each grief and care,
To thee we fly while tempests lower;
Thou wilt the weary burdens bear