0 / 0
My Lord, how full of sweet content
My years of pilgrimage are spent!
Where'er I dwell, I dwell with thee,
In heav'n, in earth, or on the sea.
To me remains nor place nor time;
My country is in ev'ry clime;
I can be calm and free from care
On any shore, since thou art there.
While place we seek, or place we shun,
The soul finds happiness in none;
But with a God to guide our way,
'Tis equal joy to go or stay.
Could I be cast where thou art not,
That were indeed a dreadful lot;
But regions none remote I call,
Secure of finding God in all.