Metropolitan Tabernacle, London
Hear, O my Lord, regard my cry,
My prayer from lips sincere;
Send Thine approval from on high,
To make my standing clear;
And, greatly as my heart is tried,
O may I not have turned aside.
Lord, I resolve with firm desire
No wrong to speak or do;
Thy path alone I choose for mine,
To walk with purpose true;
I cry for help, O Lord, to Thee,
Assured that Thou wilt answer me.
O keep me, Lord, may I be found
The apple of Thine eye;
With deadly foes arrayed around
To Thee alone I cry:
My only trust and refuge be;
And let Thy wings o’ershadow me.
Guard me from those whose joy and pride
And portion is below;
Who, with life’s treasures satisfied,
No better purpose know;
Who, with earth’s stores of wealth content,
Must leave them all when life is spent.
When, clothed in righteousness at last,
Thy glorious face I see,
When all this weary night is past,
And I awake with Thee
To view the glories that abide,
Then − how I shall be satisfied!