My Soul's Cry by Clara E. Vester

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · May 7, 1908

My Soul's Cry

By Clara E. Vester

COLD is the world, O Jesus! Naught but thy love can show The pathway over the deserts And mountains where I go; Let not thy Spirit's halo Be hidden from my sight; Cold is the world around me, Loud are the storms of night.

Great are the weights of anguish The soul of man must bear; And oft I almost perish, In wild and sick despair. O, when the waves of passion Roll higher and increase, Come thou, O loving Saviour! Utter thy words of peace.

Thou who hast borne life's sorrows Knowest what throbs of pain Assail my feeble spirit. O, take away the stain, The tarnish, give me power That I may rise above; Cold is the world around me, Great is thy tender love.

There is no other ransom, There is no other way; Thou alone canst show me The price my soul must pay; And when my feet are nearing The border land of rest, O, place thine arms around me, And draw me to thy breast.

— Clara E. Vester.