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Thy deeds, and hidden motives, on a page,
Not perishable, which the flame that burns
The scorch'd and shrinking Heavens, shall so unfold,
That every eye may read. O God, thou know'st
All my temptations, my adversities,
My weaknesses and errors; suit thy gifts
Unto my needs, and not to my deserts
Imperfect. But so guide me on this earth,
That when I leave it, I may see thy face
In peace, and sin no more. So shall my prayer
Rise ceaseless to thee; and my soul shall rest
Upon thine arm of love, through every scene
Of this day's good or ill, or life or death.
And let my song of praise, O mighty God,
Rise with acceptance from this house of clay,
This earthly tenement, soon rent and broke:
And let me on the cold, dark flood of death
Be joyful in thee: let me wake the harp
Of seraph rapture, hymning to the praise
Of Him who was, and is, and is to come,
When time shall be no more, and death shall die;
And ages after ages rolling on,
Fill not the circle of Eternity.
