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Source of love, and light of day,

Tear me from myself away;

Every view and thought of mine

Cast into the mould of thine;

Teach, O teach this faithless heart

A consistent constant part;

Or, if it must live to grow

More rebellious, break it now!

Is it thus that I requite

Grace and goodness infinite?

Every trace of every boon

Cancelled and erased so soon!

Can I grieve thee, whom I love;

Thee, in whom I live and move?

If my sorrow touch thee still,

Save me from so great an ill!

Oh! the oppressive, irksome weight,

Felt in an uncertain state;

Comfort, peace, and rest, adieu,

Should I prove at last untrue!

Still I choose thee, follow still

Every notice of thy will;

But, unstable, strangely weak,

Still let slip the good I seek.

Self–confiding wretch, I thought

I could serve thee as I ought,

Win thee, and deserve to feel

All the love thou canst reveal;

Trusting self, a bruised reed,

Is to be deceived indeed:

Save me from this harm and loss,

Lest my gold turn all to dross!

Self is earthly—faith alone

Makes an unseen world our own;

Faith relinquished, how we roam,

Feel our way, and leave our home!

Spurious gems our hopes entice,

While we scorn the pearl of price;

And, preferring servants' pay,

Cast the children's bread away.

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