I wander through a foreign land,
And still Thy love is mine;
And, guided by Thy gracious hand,
I feel that I am Thine.
My soul rejoices, Lord! to know
I dwell beneath Thy care;
And wheresoe'er I chance to go,
The all-present Friend is there.
So let me ever, ever dwell,
As knowing Thou art nigh,
And see Thee, though invisible,
Where'er I turn my eye.
For this is wisdom-all the rest
Is scarcely worth a thought:
He with Thy presence, Lord! is blest,
Who seeks Thee as he ought.
And he who seeks Thee thus shall find,
Where'er his lot may be;
Thou art throughout all space enshrined,
And all eternity.
John Bowring's Other Poems
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