1 They all were looking for a king
To slay their foes and lift them high;
Thou cam’st a little baby thing
That made a woman cry.
2 O Son of man, to right my lot
Nought but thy presence can avail;
Yet on the road thy wheels are not,
Nor on the sea thy sail.
3 My fancied ways why should’st thou heed?
Thou com’st down thine own secret stair;
Com’st down to answer all my need,
Yea, every bygone prayer.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | They all were looking for a king |
Author: | George MacDonald (1824-1905) |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1986 |
Topic: | The Lord Jesus Christ: Birth |