Early, my God, without delay,
I haste to seek Thy face;
My thirsty spirit faints away,
Without Thy cheering grace.
So pilgrims on the scorching sand,
Beneath a burning sky,
Long for a cooling stream at hand,
And they must drink, or die.
I’ve seen Thy glory and Thy pow’r
Thro’ all Thy temple shine;
My God, repeat that heav’nly hour,
That vision so divine.