They All Were Looking for a King

They all were look­ing for a king

To slay their foes and lift them high;

Thou cam’st a lit­tle ba­by thing

That made a wo­man cry.

O Son of Man

to right my lot

Naught but Thy pre­sence can av­ail;

Yet on the road Thy wheels are not

Nor on the sea Thy sail.

My fan­cied ways why should’st Thou heed?

Thou com’st down Thine own sec­ret stair;

Com’st down to an­swer all my need

Yes

ev­ery by­gone pray­er.