By Fynn Titford-Mock
- E minor
- Folk hymn
- Time signature
- Henry Francis Lyte, 1833
Taking the Primitive Baptist hymn "O Jesus My Savior" as a model. Also an exercise in a pentatonic mode without any "fa"s.
Oh had I, my Savior, the wings of a dove,
How soon would I fly to thy presence above;
How soon would I flee where the weary have rest,
And hide all my sorrow in thy shelt'ring breast.
I flutter, I struggle, I pant to get free;
I feel me a captive while banished from thee;
A pilgrim and stranger, the desert I roam,
And look on to heaven, and long to be home.
Ah, there the wild tempest forever shall cease;
No billow shall ruffle that haven of peace;
Temptation and trouble alike shall depart,
All tears from the eye, and all sin from the heart.
Soon, soon may this Eden of promise be mine;
Rise, bright sun of glory, no more to decline:
Thy light, yet unrisen, the wilderness cheers;
O what will it be when the fulness appears?