University of Virginia Library

Thou, Lord, hast search'd me out; thine eyes
Mark when I sit, and when I rise;
By Thee my future thoughts are read;
Thou round my path, and round my bed,
Attendest vigilant; each word,
E'er yet I speak, by Thee is heard.
Life's maze, before my view outspread,
Within thy presence wrapt I tread,
And touch'd with conscious horror stand
Beneath the shadow of thy hand.
How deep thy Knowledge, Lord, how wide!
Long to the fruitless task applied,
That mighty Sea my thoughts explore,
Nor reach its depth, nor find its shore.
Where shall I shun thy wakeful eye,
Or whither from thy Spirit fly?
Aloft to Heav'n my course I bear;
In vain; for Thou, my God, art there:
If prone to Hell my feet descend,
Thou still my footsteps shalt attend:
If now, on swiftest wings upborne,
I seek the regions of the Morn,
Or haste me to the western Steep,
Where Eve sits brooding o'er the Deep,
Thy hand the fugitive shall stay,
And dictate to my steps their way.
Perchance within its thickest veil
The Darkness shall my head conceal:
But, instant, Thou hast chas'd away
The gloom, and round me pour'd the day.
Darkness, great God, to Thee there's none;
Darkness and Light to Thee are one;
Nor brighter shines to Thee display'd
The Noon than Night's obscurest shade.
My reins, my fabrick's ev'ry part,
The wonders of thy plastic art
Proclaim, and prompt my willing tongue
To meditate the grateful song:
With deepest awe my Thought their frame
Surveys:—“I tremble that I am.”
While yet a stranger to the day
Within the burthen'd womb I lay,
My bones, familiar to thy view,
By just degrees to firmness grew:
Day to succeeding day consign'd
Th' unfinish'd Birth; thy mighty Mind
Each limb, each nerve, e'er yet they were,
Contemplated distinct and clear;
Those nerves thy curious finger spun,
Those limbs it fashion'd one by one;
And, as thy pen in fair design
Trac'd on thy book each shadowy line,
Thy Handmaid Nature read them there,
And made the growing work her care,
Conform'd it to th' unerring plan,
And gradual wrought me into Man.

With what delight, great God, I trace
The Acts of thy stupendous Grace!
To count them, were to count the sand
That lies upon the sea-beat strand.
When from my temples sleep retires,
To Thee my thankful heart aspires,
And with thy sacred presence blest
Joys to receive the awful Guest.
Shall impious Men thy will withstand,
Nor feel the vengeance of thy hand?
Hence, Murth'rers, hence, nor near me stay;
Ye Sons of Violence, away.
When lawless Crouds with insult vain
Thy Works revile, thy Name profane,
Can I unmov'd those insults see,
Nor hate the Wretch that hateth Thee?
Indignant, in thy Cause I join,
And all thy foes, my God, are mine.
Searcher of hearts, my thoughts review;
With kind severity pursue
Through each disguise thy Servant's mind,
Nor leave one stain of guilt behind.
Guide through th' eternal path my feet,
And bring me to thy blissful Seat.