Breathe from the gentle south, O Lord,
And cheer me from the north;
Blow on the treasures of Thy word,
And call the spices forth!
Help me to reach the distant goal;
Confirm my feeble knee;
Pity the sickness of a soul
That faints for love of Thee!
I seem forsaken and alone,
I hear the lion roar;
And every door is shut but one,
And that is Mercy’s door.
There, till the dear Deliverer come,
I’ll wait with humble prayer;
And when He calls His exile home,
The Lord shall find him there.