Lord, I was made for Thee,
So let me rest
Not otherwise than on Thy breast.
Let the pure thought of Thee
Quiet my mind,
In Thy dear Heart my heart
Its haven find.
Yea, let myself, this little soul,
Come to so great a goal.
For though of clay Thou madest me,
My clay was touched with Thine eternity,
And I am 'restless till I rest in Thee.'
Father Andrew
Prayers of Father Andrew
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