God,
I seek to glimpse thy face.
Is my soul so blinded
By things of this mortal age?
It finds no rest, or sweet repose,
Flooded by desolation so great.
God ? why did?st thou me create?
Let this spirit to Thee awake,
Nor spare me not
Suffering, pain or sorrow,
And, if in my deep despair,
This naked soul I bare,
Hear thou my cry, my prayer.
Let the tempest in this soul pass
And light to rend the darkness
In a blinding flash.
I to thee will awake at last,
And by thy grace
I shall behold
Thy beloved face.
© Elizabeth Anderson 1959
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