Sweet was the hour, O Lord, to Thee
At Sychar’s lonely well,
When a poor outcast heard Thee there
Thy great salvation tell.
Thither she came; but, oh! her heart,
All filled with earthly care,
Dreamed not of Thee, nor thought to find
The hope of Israel there.
Lord! ‘twas Thy power unseen that drew
The stray one to that place,
In solitude to learn from Thee
The secrets of Thy grace.
There Jacob’s erring daughter found
Those streams unknown before,
The water-brooks of life, that make
The weary thirst no more.
And, Lord, to us, as vile as she,
Thy gracious lips have told
That mystery of love revealed
At Jacob’s well of old.
In spirit, Lord, we’ve sat with Thee
Beside the springing well
Of life and peace, and heard Thee there
Its healing virtues tell.
Dead to the world, we dream no more
Of earthly pleasures now;
Our deep, divine, unfailing spring
Of grace and glory Thou!
No hope of rest in aught beside,
No beauty, Lord, we see;
And, like Samaria’s daughter, seek,
And find our all in Thee.