So pilgrims, on the scorching sand,
Beneath a burning sky,
Long for a cooling stream at hand,
And they must drink or die.
3
Not life itself, with all its joys,
Can my best passions move;
Nor raise so high my cheerful voice,
As thy forgiving love.
Thus, till my last expiring day,
I'll bless my God and King;
Thus will I lift my hands to pray,
And tune my lips to sing.
God the only Object of Worship.
O God, our strength, to thee the song
With grateful hearts we raise;
To thee, and thee alone, belong
All worship, love, and praise.
Led by the light thy grace imparts,
Ne'er may we bow the knee
To idols, which our wayward hearts
Set up instead of thee.
So shall thy choicest gifts, O Lord, Thy faithful people bless;
For them shall earth its stores afford, And Heaven its happiness.
Call me away from flesh and sense;
One sovereign word can draw me hence;
I would obey the voice divine,
And all inferior joys resign.
Be earth, and all her scenes, withdrawn ; Let noise and vanity be gone:
In secret silence of the mind,
My heaven, and there my God, I find.
Glory to thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light:
Keep me, O keep me, King of kings,
Under thy own almighty wings.
Forgive me, Lord, through thy dear Son,
The ill that I this day have done;
That with the world, myself, and thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.
Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed;
To die, that this vile body may
Rise glorious at the awful day.
O, may my soul on thee repose,
And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close;
Sleep that may me more vigorous make,
To serve my God when I awake.
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