1.
Your love, O Lord, has substance I can feel,
A weight that holds this anxious wand’rer still,
Arrested by the strange, forgotten peal
Of heart-strings played at their Creator’s will.
1.
Your love, O Lord, has substance I can feel,
A weight that holds this anxious wand’rer still,
Arrested by the strange, forgotten peal
Of heart-strings played at their Creator’s will.