When bow'd before Jehovah's throne

When bow'd before Jehovah's throne
With bended knee and lifted eye,
My vows I breathe, my sins I own,
And pour the supplicating sigh;
This is the heaviest thought to me, —
I am not what I seem to be.

For wand'ring thoughts and wild desires
Oft lurk beneath that solemn show,
There — lighting their unhallow'd fires
Where Love to God alone should glow:
The meek adorer others see
Is not what he appears to be.

Yet there are times, when by life's joys
My thoughts — insensibly beguiled —
Will trifle with its empty toys,
And — answering — smile where it hath smiled;
Then, 'tis a gladsome thought to me
I am not what I seem to be.

For 'neath that laugh of thoughtless mirth
There lives a deeply serious soul,
And impulses of heavenly birth,
Which look and long for Heaven's controul;
The giddy thing that others see
Is not what he appears to be.

Lord make me in Thy sight sincere,
From heartless prayer my soul protect,
And, when the eyes of men are near,
Make me more humbly circumspect; —
Seeming — as one who lives with Thee,
And being — what I seem to be.