|Location in The Sacred Harp|
How tedious and tasteless the hours,
When Jesus no longer I see;
Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flow'rs,
Have lost all their sweetness to me;
The midsummer-sun shines but dim,
The fields strive in vain to look gay;
But when I am happy in him,
December's as pleasant as May.
Edgefield 82b (Lines 1, 2, 3, & 4), Stanza 1
His name yields the richest perfume,
And sweeter than music his voice;
His presence disperses my gloom,
And makes all within me rejoice:
I should, were He always so nigh,
Have nothing to wish or to fear;
No mortal so happy as I,
My summer would last all the year.
Edgefield 82b (Lines 1, 2, 3, & 4), Stanza 2
Content with beholding his face,
My all to his pleasures resign'd;
No changes of season or place,
Would make any change in my mind:
While bless'd with a sense of his love,
A palace a toy would appear;
And prisons would palaces prove,
If Jesus would dwell with me there.
Dear Lord, if indeed I am thine,
If thou art my sun and my song;
Say, why do I languish and pine,
And why are my winters so long?
O drive these dark clouds from my sky,
Thy soul-cheering presence restore,
Or take me unto thee up on high,
Where winter and clouds are no more.