Rise, My Soul, Thy God Directs Thee
Rise, my soul, thy God directs thee;
Stranger hands no more impede;
Pass thou on, His hand protects thee,
Strength that has the captive freed.
Is the wilderness before thee?
Desert land where drought abides?
Heav'nly springs shall there restore thee,
Fresh from God's exhaustless tides.
Light Divine surrounds thy going:
God Himself shall mark thy way:
Secret blessings, richly flowing,
Lead to everlasting day.
In the desert God will teach thee
What the God that thou hast found,
Patient, gracious, pow'rful, holy, -
All His grace shall there abound.
Tho' the way be long and dreary,
Eagle strength He'll still renew;
Garments fresh and foot unweary,
Tell how God hath bro't thee through.
There no stranger God shall meet thee;
Stranger thou in courts above,
He, who to His rest shall greet thee,
Greets thee with a well-known love.
J. N. Darby
Psalmodia Sacra Gotha