Gray Clouds My Heaven Have Covered O'Er; My Sea Ebbs Fast, No More To Flow; Ghastly And Dry, My Desert Shore Parched, Bare, Unsightly Things Doth Show. 'Tis Thou, Lord, Cloudest Up My Sky; Stillest The Heart-Throb Of My Sea; Tellest The Sad Wind Not To Sigh, Yea, Life Itself To Wait For Thee! Lord, Here I Am, Empty Enough! My Music But A Soundless Moan! Blind Hope, Of All My Household Stuff, Leaves Me, Blind Hope, Not Quite Alone! Shall Hope Too Go, That I May Trust Purely In Thee, And Spite Of All? Then Turn My Very Heart To Dust-- On Thee, On Thee, I Yet Will Call. List! List! His Wind Among The Pines Hark! Hark! That Rushing Is His Sea'S! O Father, These Are But Thy Signs!-- For Thee I Hunger, Not For These! Not Joy Itself, Though Pure And High-- No Gift Will Do Instead Of Thee! Let But My Spirit Know Thee Nigh, And All The World May Sleep For Me!