1 FATHER of spirits, natures's God,
Our inmost thoughts are known to thee;
Thou, Lord, canst hear each idle word,
And every private action see.
2 Could we, on morning's swiftest wings,
Pursue our flight through trackless air,
Or dive beneath deep ocean's springs,
Thy presence still would meet us there.
3 In vain may guilt attempt to fly,
Concealed beneath the pall of night;
One glance from thy all-piercing eye
Can kindle darkness into light.
4 Search thou our hearts, and there destroy
Each evil thought, each secret sin,
And fit us for those realms of joy,
Where nought impure shall enter in.
Source: The Voice of Praise: a collection of hymns for the use of the Methodist Church #59