"Hear me! To Thee my soul in suppliance turneth; Like the lorn pilgrim on the sands accursed. For life's sweet waters, God! my spirit yearneth: Give me to drink. I perish here of thirst." "Oh, it is His own self I pant after. Fellowship—living, constant, intimate fellowship with Him, is the cry He often hears from the desolate void of my unloving heart. How do I loathe the sin which makes the atmosphere so misty—the clouds so thick and dark!"—Life of Adelaide Newton, p. 246. "My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?"—Verse 2.
|
|
