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
Naught 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,
Yes, every bygone prayer.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #6489
|Instances (1 - 1 of 1)||Title||First Line||Tune||Tune Key||Author||Meter||Scripture||Date||Subject||Source|
|The Cyber Hymnal #6489||They All Were Looking for a King||They all were looking for a king||CHILDHOOD||George McDonald||88.86||<cite>A Threefold Cord: Poems by Three Friends</cite>, 1883|