O seek the Lord, while He is near;
He’s bending low and lending ear.
He’ll pity you, if you return–
Turn from your thoughts; your bridges, burn.
The highest heav’n with endless girth
Stands high above our lowly earth;
And so God’s ways with endless span
Stand high above the plans of man.
The springtime snow, which chills at first,
Will soften soil till blossoms burst;
And so God’s word, which may give pain,
Will ne’er return to Him in vain.
No thistle, thorn will halt your cause
Till mountains shout and palms applaud,
Till you go forth in joy and peace–
Forever free, from sin released.
Text: Paraphrased from Isaiah 55:6-13.
Tune: “Duke Street,” by John Hatton.
