Gray clouds my heaven have covered o'er; br My sea ebbs fast, no more to flow; br Ghastly and dry, my desert shore br Parched, bare, unsightly things doth show. br br 'Tis thou, Lord, cloudest up my sky; br Stillest the heart-throb of my sea; br Tellest the sad wind not to sigh, br Yea, life itself to wait for thee! br br Lord, here I am, empty enough! br My music but a soundless moan! br Blind hope, of all my household stuff, br Leaves me, blind hope, not quite alone! br br Shall hope too go, that I may trust br Purely in thee, and spite of all? br Then turn my very heart to dust- br On thee, on thee, I yet will call.