CXXXVIII. Searching and trying our Ways.

THY piercing Eye, O GOD, surveys
The various Windings of our Ways;
Teach us their Tendency to know,
And judge the Paths in which we go.

How wild, how crooked have they been!
A Maze of Foolishness and Sin!
With all the Light we vainly boast,
Leaving our Guide, our Souls are lost.

Had not thy Mercy been our Aid
So fatally our Feet had stray'd,
Stern Justice had its Pris'ners led
Down to the Chambers of the Dead.

O turn us back to Thee again,
Or we shall search our Ways in vain;
Shine, and the Path of Life reveal,
And bear us on to Zion's Hill.

Roll on, ye swift-revolving Years,
And end this Round of Sins and Cares
No more a Wand'rer would I roam,
But near my Father fix at Home.