Thy Hand! XXXII.

Lord, that I thee may find, O stretch to me thy Hand!

Close-clasped for ever, kind, O stretch to me thy hand!

O'er Earth it gathers dark, and ever deeper here

Where dim cross Footpaths wind, O stretch to me thy Hand!

The Malice of the World and deadly Hate I know;

Where the Danger grows defined, O stretch to me thy Hand!

The Pilgrim's Journey still is threatened by the Foe;

But to thwart the Ill designed, O stretch to me thy Hand!

O come, and let it press upon this burning Heart;

Though Tears my glad Eyes blind, O stretch to me thy Hand!

Fair Moon, up to thy Palace all shining, I would climb;

But lest I halt behind, O stretch to me thy hand!