The Lark

I miss you when I wake
From the dark dreams of my night. 
I miss your being there
As the morning streams with light. 

I miss you as I walk
Beside the swift and swollen river.
I feel your loss intensely 
It’s not cold that makes me shiver. 

Where are you now I wonder,
I can’t find you when I search.
I lost you in that springtime
In that faith redeeming church. 

Your lark ascends each morning 
As the sun grows in the sky.
I pray that when I follow
I will find you by and by.