Thou art my God, O God of grace,
And ear­nest­ly I seek Thy face,
My heart cries out for Thee;
My spir­it thirsts Thy grace to taste,
An ex­ile in this de­sert waste
In which no wa­ters be,
In which no wa­ters be.

I long as in the times of old
Thy power and glo­ry to be­hold
Within Thy ho­ly place;
Because Thy ten­der love I see,
More pre­cious far than life to me,
My lips shall praise Thy grace,
My lips shall praise Thy grace.

Thus will I bless Thee while I live,
And with up­lift­ed hands will give
Praise to Thy ho­ly name;
When by Thy boun­ty well sup­plied,
Then shall my soul be sa­tis­fied,
My mouth shall praise pro­claim,
My mouth shall praise pro­claim.

My lips shall in Thy praise de­light
When on my bed I rest at night
And me­di­tate on Thee;
Because Thy hand as­sist­ance brings,
Beneath the sha­dow of Thy wings
My heart shall joy­ful be,
My heart shall joy­ful be.