Somedays I seem just passenger of this,
Great rush through every person like a mist,
Which wets my face but soon is on the breeze,
I look and there I held too long a breathe,
But misty puffs were always for the breeze.

Peering into other halls,
Their grandure carpeted in green,
Soft brickwork draping stalwart glass,
Beneath the vast suspence hiding,
Militant people in pursuit of books.

Faithful Father be praised!
You do not whisper to my heart in vain,
But for a cause I'm called,
To proclaim the gospel to the heights,
To mention your goodness to the depths,
To walk with your children between,
By grace we have a new life of purpose,
You do not whisper to our hearts in vain,
Faithful Father be praised!