209.  Thou Art Near

1
O Love divine, that stooped to share
Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear!
On thee we cast each earthborn care,
Feeling at rest while thou art near.

2
Though long the weary way we tread,
And sorrow crown each ling’ring year,
No path we shun, no darkness dread,
Our hearts still whisp’ring, Thou art near!

3
When drooping pleasure turns to grief,
And trembling faith is changed to fear,
The murm’ring wind, the quiv’ring leaf,
Shall softly tell us thou art near.

4
On thee we cast our burd’ning woe,
O Love divine, forever dear;
Content to suffer while we know,
Living or dying, thou art near.