O THOU, to whose all-searching sight

The darkness shineth as the light,

Search, prove my heart; it pants for Thee;

Oh, burst these bands, and set it free.


Wash out its stains, refine its dross:

Nail my affections to the cross;

Hallow each thought, let all within

Be clean, as Thou, my Lord, art clean.


If in this darksome wild I stray,

Be Thou my light, be Thou my Way;

No foes, no violence, I fear;

No fraud, while Thou, my God, art near.


Saviour, where’er Thy steps I see,

Dauntless, untired, I followThee;

Oh, let Thy hand support me still,

And lead me to Thy holy hill.


If rough and thorny be the way,

My strength proportion to the day;

Till toil, and grief, and pain shall cease,

Where all is calm, and joy, and peace.


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