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489.

P. M.

Bowring.

Prayer of a Lowly Spirit.
383

From the recesses of a lowly spirit,

Our humble prayer ascends; O Father! hear it,

Upsoaring on the wings of awe and meekness;

Forgive its weakness!

We see Thy hand; it leads us, it supports us:

We hear Thy voice; it counsels and it courts us:

And then we turn away; and still Thy kindness

Forgives our blindness.

O how long-suffering, Lord! but Thou delightest

To win with love the wandering; Thou invitest,

By smiles of mercy, not by frowns or terrors,

Man from his errors.

Father and Saviour! plant within each bosom

The seeds of holiness; and bid them blossom

In fragrance and in beauty bright and vernal,

And spring eternal.

Then place them in Thine everlasting gardens,

Where angels walk, and seraphs are the wardens;

Where every flower escaped through death’s dark portal,

Becomes immortal.

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