1 Thou hidden Love of God, whose height, whose depth unfathomed, no man knows, I see from far Thy beauteous light, and inly sigh for Thy repose; my heart is pained, nor can it be at rest till it finds rest in Thee. 2 Thy secret voice invites me still, The sweetness of Thy yoke to prove; And fain I would; but, though my will, Seem fixed, yet wide my passions rove; Yet hindrance strew all the way; I aim at Thee, yet from Thee stray. 3 'Tis mercy all that Thou hast brought my mind to seek its peace in Thee; yet, while I seek, but find Thee not, no peace my wandering soul shall see. O when shall all my wanderings end, and all my steps to Thee-ward tend? 4 Is there a thing beneath the sun that strives with Thee my heart to share? Ah! tear it thence, and reign alone, the Lord of every motion there; then shall my heart from earth be free, when it has found repose in Thee.