Not here! not here! not where the sparkling waters
Fade into mocking sands as we draw near;
Where in the wilderness each footstep falters—
I shall be satisfied—but oh, not here! Not here where every dream of bliss deceives us,
Where the worn spirit never gains its goal;
Where haunted ever by the thoughts that grieve us,
Across us floods of bitter memory roll. There is a land where every pulse is thrilling
With rapture, earth’s sojourners may not know,
Where Heaven’s repose the weary heart is stilling,
And peacefully life’s time-tossed currents flow. Far out of sight, while yet the flesh enfolds us,
Lies the fair country, where our hearts abide,
And of its bliss is nought more wondrous told us
Than these few words, “I shall be satisfied.” Satisfied! satisfied! the spirit’s yearning
For sweet companionship with kindred minds—
The silent love that here meets no returning,
The inspiration which no language finds— Shall they be satisfied? The soul’s vague longing—
The aching void which nothing earthly fills?
Oh! what desires upon my soul are thronging,
As I look upward to the heavenly hills. Thither my weak and weary steps are tending—
Saviour and Lord! with thy frail child abide!
Guide me towards home, where all my wanderings ending,
I then shall see Thee, and “be satisfied.”