Mark 11: Still, O my dear redeeming Lord

Still, O my dear redeeming Lord,
Thy faithfulness I plead,
And hang on Thy most precious word
For every good I need:
The good which first of all I want
Into my heart convey,
The power to pray and never faint.
The constant power to pray.
With all my small remains of grace
The blessing I implore.
Stir up my soul to seek Thy face,
To seek it evermore;
To wrestle till the clouds remove.

And Thou Thy name declare,
While all my happy heart is love.
And all my life is prayer.
For this I pray, and long, and trust
Thy goodness, truth, and power.
To make, as to account me just
In Thine appointed hour:
Thou canst; and is it not Thy will
That I should holy be?
Lord, I expect Thee to fulfil
Thy whole design on me.

I Thy counsel is, to save me now
From every act of sin;
Nor will I, Lord, the least allow.

Or touch the thing unclean:
Surrounded with ten thousand snares,
I shall not, cannot fall,