I Thirst, but Not as Once I Did

I thirst

but not as once I did

The vain de­lights of earth to share;

Thy wounds

Em­ma­nu­el

all for­bid

That I should seek my plea­sures there.

It was the sight of Thy dear cross

First weaned my soul from earth­ly things;

And taught me to es­teem as dross

The mirth of fools and pomp of kings.

I want that grace that springs from Thee

That quick­ens all things where it flows;

And makes a wretch­ed thorn

like me

Bloom as the myr­tle

or the rose.

Dear fount­ain of de­light un­known!

No long­er sink be­low the brim;

But ov­er­flow

and pour me down

A liv­ing

and life-giv­ing stream!

For sure

of all the plants that share

The no­tice of Thy Fa­ther’s eye;

None proves less grate­ful to His care

Or yields Him mean­er fruit than I.