Feeble and worn, to Thee my bosom clings,
To Thee I bow.
Deep is the inward strife,
Thou knowest consumes my sick and weary soul,
Deep is that grief still agitates my life,
Beyond control.
Here joy is o’er,
Earth cannot soothe, for life can nothing give,
Take me, then, Father, to that mighty shore,
For Thee I’ll live.