Come, God of all the universe on high.
Bend low and hear your servant’s humble cry.
Come, now, down off your glorious throne and stoop
As your dear, finite flower’s petals droop
And all but wilt completely, longing just
To taste life’s spring instead of ash and dust.
Come, Lord, my Maker, Father, turn this way;
Draw near that your full presence may display
Its glorious breadth upon my aching soul
And utterly consume its wanting whole.
Relieve your right hand’s duty to the stars
That you may rest it on this empty jar
Of earthen clay and fill it with your light.
Come near and be my lamp amid my night.
You only fill this longing deep in me.
Were earth’s wide depths and heights of mountains, sea,
Offered to quench my hunger for true peace,
All would fall short—yea, longings would increase!
Come, Shepherd, Jesus, spread your mantle wide
Across this curved and shivering back and hide
Your lamb securely in your shadow’s keep,
Where he might feel you close and know sure sleep.
It’s there he finds his heart’s most craved desire—
To be consumed in your sweet Spirit’s fire.