1 To thee, O sov'reign father, I appeal;
To thee the secrets of my soul reveal,
My faithful soul, that, firm in innocence,
Makes thee her surest hope, her strong defence,
2 O try thy servant, scrutinize his heart;
Prove him, and judge according to desert,
3 With grateful eyes thy mercies all I view,
With careful steps the road to truth pursue;
4 The fraudful tongue, that ruins with a lie,
The idly vain, that love not thee, I fly;
5 The converse of ungodly men I hate,
Nor 'mid the wicked e'er will fix my feat.
6 With hands unstain'd I'll at thy altar bow,
There pay the adoration that I owe;
7 In thankful hymns I'll there employ my voice,
And in the wonders of my God rejoice:
8 I love the temple, where thy name's ador'd;
Much do I love thy hallow'd dome, O Lord.
9 Then suffer not my soul, to shades below,
With bloody, with deceitful men, to go;
10 With men, whose hands in mischiefs are involv'd,
Whose hearts for gain the blackest crimes resolv'd.
11 No; my sincerity be still my guard,
With thy redemption my firm soul reward;
12 Firm that me Hands, I owe, my God, to thee:
Thy name be prais'd thro' all eternity.