1 Lone amidst the dead and dying,
Lord, my spirit faints for Thee;
Longing, thirsting, drooping, sighing,
When shall I Thy presence see?
2 O how altered my condition;
Late I led the joyous throng;
Beat my heart with full fruition,
Flowed my lips with grateful song.
3 Now the storm goes wildly o’er me,
Waves on waves my soul confound:
Naught but boding fears before me,
Naught but threatening foes around.
4 Save me, save me, O my Father!
To Thy faithful word I cling;
Thence, my soul, thy comfort gather;
Hope, and thou again shalt sing.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #12553
Lyte, Henry Francis, M.A., son of Captain Thomas Lyte, was born at Ednam, near Kelso, June 1, 1793, and educated at Portora (the Royal School of Enniskillen), and at Trinity College, Dublin, of which he was a Scholar, and where he graduated in 1814. During his University course he distinguished himself by gaining the English prize poem on three occasions. At one time he had intended studying Medicine; but this he abandoned for Theology, and took Holy Orders in 1815, his first curacy being in the neighbourhood of Wexford. In 1817, he removed to Marazion, in Cornwall. There, in 1818, he underwent a great spiritual change, which shaped and influenced the whole of his after life, the immediate cause being the illness and death of a brother cler… Go to person page >
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