As pants the wearied hart for cooling springs,
That sinks exhausted in the summer's chase,
So pants my soul for Thee, great King of kings,
So thirsts to reach Thy sacred dwelling place.
It looks like you are using an ad-blocker. Ad revenue helps keep us running.
Please consider white-listing Hymnary.org or getting Hymnary Pro
to eliminate ads entirely and help support Hymnary.org.