A Prayer Under Convictions

Father of Lights, from whom proceeds
Whate'er Thy every creature needs;
Whose goodness providently nigh
Feeds the young ravens when they cry;
To Thee I look: my heart prepare;
Suggest, and hearken to my prayer.

Since by Thy light myself I see
Naked, and poor, and void of Thee,
Thine eyes must all my thoughts survey,
Preventing what my lips would say:
Thou seest my wants; for help they call;
And ere I speak, Thou know'st them all.

Thou know'st the baseness of my mind,
Wayward, and impotent, and blind;
Thou know'st how unsubdued my will,
Averse to good, and prone to ill;
Thou know'st how wide my passions rove,
Nor check'd by fear, nor charm'd by love.

Fain would I know, as known by Thee,
And feel the indigence I see;
Fain would I all my vileness own,
And deep beneath the burden groan;
Abhor the pride that lurks within,
Detest and loathe myself and sin.

Ah, give me, Lord, myself to feel;
My total misery reveal:
Ah, give me, Lord, (I still would say,)
A heart to mourn, a heart to pray:
My business this, my only care,
My life, my every breath be prayer.

Scarce I begin my sad complaint,
When all my warmest wishes faint;
Hardly I lift my weeping eye,
When all my kindling ardours die;
Nor hopes nor fears my bosom move,
For still I cannot, cannot love.

Father, I want a thankful heart;
I want to taste how good Thou art;
To plunge me in Thy mercy's sea,
And comprehend Thy love to me, —
The breadth, and length, and depth, and height
Of Love divinely infinite.

Father, I long my soul to raise,
And dweU for ever on Thy praise;
Thy praise with glorious joy to tell,
In ecstasy unspeakable;
While the full power of FAITH I know,
And reign triumphant here below.