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XXII

View me, LORD, a work of Thine!

Shall I then lie drown'd in night?

Might Thy grace in me but shine,

I should seem made all of light.

But my soul still surfeits so

On the poison'd baits of sin,

That I strange and ugly grow;

All is dark and foul within.

Cleanse me, LORD, that I may kneel

At Thine altar, pure and white:

They that once Thy mercies feel,

Gaze no more on earth's delight.

Worldly joys, like shadows, fade

When the heavenly light appears;

But the covenants Thou hast made,

Endless, know nor days nor years.

In Thy Word, LORD, is my trust,

To Thy mercies fast I fly;

Though I am but clay and dust,

Yet Thy grace can lift me high!

22
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