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E'er nature wakes, or the rejoicing sun
Looks from his chamber on the rising morn.
O thou! whose throne is in the circling Heavens,
Where the veil'd seraphs stand; thou wilt not scorn
The incense of the heart, for thou dost know
My frame, and thou rememberest I am dust.
But yet thine hand did mould this mass of clay,
And thy breath quicken it: nor should I blush
To lift my face to thee, to speak thy name,
And call thee Father, had not sin so stain'd,
Marr'd, and defac'd thy work. Still be my God,
Bend to my prayers, and send thy Spirit forth
To heal, and to enlighten, and to save.
Oh, as a parent guides and guards a child,
Oft wandering, yet belov'd, so guide thou me
This day. From inward foes, and hidden ills,
From snares of youth, from treachery of man,
Fruitless resolves, and fancies roving wild,
From vanity, and pride, and dark deceit,
Or whatsoever else might wake the sting
Of conscience, wound another's peace, or break
Thy holy law, save me this day, O God:
And let a warning voice say to my soul,
The pure and watchful eyes of the High Judge
Are on thy ways, and still a viewless pen
Moves, never weary, to record thy words,
