The song is really good and it touches my heart to sing. Jesus satisfy my longing. When I first listen my tear rolled over my cheek. Then I confess my sin to Jesus.
This song is the testimony of my life; I was in church all my life but empty in my religion I never had any True joy and satisfaction within until Jesus found me. Hallelujah! Now every line of this song is alive with meaning.
This hymn "All my life long I had panted" has touched my heart. Every morning when I sing this song, I feel joy, comfort and very satisfied. May the Lord God remembers the author of the song Clara T. William who meant that Jesus is the living food and water.
These lyrics contain a subtle change. She specifically wrote "through His blood...". Here blood is replaced by life. She is correct in the original. If He had not shed his blood, His life makes no difference to us.
"My father, the Reverend A. J. Shea, and I were on an afternoon shopping trip for Mother, as I recall. When we came out of a store in Houghton, NY, where we had recently moved from Winchester, Ontario, we met a tall, elderly woman making her way slowly up the street. She was walking in that slow, mincing step older people sometimes do, cautious not to lose balance.
Dad tipped his hat and said good-day to her as we passed. She stopped and looked up to see who was speaking. Smiling sweetly, she returned his greeting.
'Do you know who that was, Son?' he asked me on the way. I turned and watched as she continued her careful progress. Though a distinguished woman (whom I would now describe as looking a lot like Whistler's Mother) I had no idea who she was.
'That,' said Dad, 'was Mrs. Clara Tear Williams. She writes hymns.' There was a near reverence in his voice, and though I was only 8 years old, I was duly impressed.
When Dad and I got home that afternoon, I told Mother about meeting Mrs. Williams, the hymn writer. She smiled knowingly and nodded her head. Then, she went to the piano bench and found a hymnal that contained one of Clara Tear Williams' compositions.
Placing the book on the music rack and sitting down to the piano, Mother began playing that song with me on the bench beside her. It was beautiful. Up until then, I guess I figured all the songs we sung in church were written and published by people who lived in far off places like New York. I couldn't get over the fact that we had a real live composer in our very own town.
A few years later, when I was in my teens and began to sing solos, I memorized the hymn that Mother played that day and sang it. It was entitled 'Satisfied' or 'All My Life Long.' - George Beverly Shea in 'Songs that Lift the Heart'