 | Silex Scintillans |  |
Begging.
King of Mercy, King of Love,In whom I live, in whom I move,
Perfect what thou hast begun,
Let no night put out this Sun;
Grant I may, my chief desire!
Long for thee, to thee aspire,
Let my youth, my bloom of dayes
Be my Comfort, and thy praise,
That hereafter, when I look
O'r the sullyed, sinful book,
I may find thy hand therein
Wiping out my shame, and sin.
O it is thy only Art
To reduce a stubborn heart,
And since thine is victorie,
Strong holds should belong to thee;
110
Unto my dispose or lot,
But since I would not have it mine,
O my God, let it be thine!
| Silex Scintillans | |