River running, bubbled at the twine of brooks,
Passed by though tempted take some lengthy looks,
Wettened reads drag with the nagging tide,
Drooping branches bounding now the river wide.

Sovereign Lord,
When I slumber you wake,
Sustaining me when dreariness
Runs rampant in my creaking frame,
And I can rest in no other,
I will make you my refuge,
Glorious Father.