His Are the Thousand Sparkling Rills

Verse 1

His are the thousand sparkling rills that from a thousand fountains burst, and fill with music all the hills; and yet he saith, 'I thirst.'

Verse 2

All fiery pangs on battle-fields, on fever beds where sick men toss, are in that human cry he yields to anguish on the cross.

Verse 3

But more than pains that racked him then was the deep longing thirst divine that thirsted for the souls of men; dear Lord! And one was mine.

Verse 4

O Love most patient, give me grace; make all my soul athirst for thee; that parched dry lip, that fading face, that thirst, were all for me.