The Choir and The Oratory or Praise and Prayer. By Josiah Conder |
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“O LORD, THOU HAST SEARCHED ME AND
KNOWN ME.”
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 | The Choir and The Oratory |  |
“O LORD, THOU HAST SEARCHED ME AND KNOWN ME.”
Psalm cxxxix.
Thy searching eyes my inmost soul inspect:
My every movement, Lord, is known to Thee.
Thou from afar canst every thought detect:
I walk or rest beneath Thy scrutiny.
Thought's faintest whisper by Thine ear is heard,
And known to Thee each yet unuttered word.
My every movement, Lord, is known to Thee.
Thou from afar canst every thought detect:
I walk or rest beneath Thy scrutiny.
Thought's faintest whisper by Thine ear is heard,
And known to Thee each yet unuttered word.
By Thee I am surrounded: yea, Thy hand
Is on me laid. Thee every where I find.
Knowledge like this, ah! who can understand?
What creature fathom the Eternal Mind?
Lord, whither from Thy Spirit should I flee?
How shun Thy presence?—where escape from Thee?
Is on me laid. Thee every where I find.
Knowledge like this, ah! who can understand?
What creature fathom the Eternal Mind?
Lord, whither from Thy Spirit should I flee?
How shun Thy presence?—where escape from Thee?
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Could I climb heaven's ethereal altitude,
There doth Thy glory reign. Or should I dare
Plunge in hell's dark abyss, Thee to elude,
Thy dreadful presence would enfold me there.
Or could I, with the morn, on wings of light,
To Nature's confines urge my distant flight,—
There doth Thy glory reign. Or should I dare
Plunge in hell's dark abyss, Thee to elude,
Thy dreadful presence would enfold me there.
Or could I, with the morn, on wings of light,
To Nature's confines urge my distant flight,—
Ev'n there, Thy right hand, Lord, must be my stay.
Should I to shroud my head in darkness try,
And, with the forest herds, make night my day,
Darkness is no concealment from Thine eye.
Alike to Him who light and darkness made,
The blaze of noon and midnight's deepest shade.
Should I to shroud my head in darkness try,
And, with the forest herds, make night my day,
Darkness is no concealment from Thine eye.
Alike to Him who light and darkness made,
The blaze of noon and midnight's deepest shade.
Thou, Lord, didst form my heart, my embryo frame
Didst shape: a fearful miracle the whole.
Sublime Thy works! Let all my powers proclaim
Thy praise, while grateful wonder fills my soul.
In darkness was this curious texture wrought,
Like treasures from earth's deepest caverns brought.
Didst shape: a fearful miracle the whole.
Sublime Thy works! Let all my powers proclaim
Thy praise, while grateful wonder fills my soul.
In darkness was this curious texture wrought,
Like treasures from earth's deepest caverns brought.
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Yet did Thine eye the secret process view,
From the rude germ in which it first began,
Still day by day unfolding, till it grew
To the full measure of Thy perfect plan:
Forewritten in Thy book the fixed decree,
Ere yet existent, when it was to be.
From the rude germ in which it first began,
Still day by day unfolding, till it grew
To the full measure of Thy perfect plan:
Forewritten in Thy book the fixed decree,
Ere yet existent, when it was to be.
How sweet the wonders of Thy providence
To trace, and all Thy favours to recount!
But, Lord, they rise innumerous, immense:
Like Ocean's sands, the untold numbers mount.
Such thoughts by night my sleepless hours employ,
And to Thy presence I awake with joy.
To trace, and all Thy favours to recount!
But, Lord, they rise innumerous, immense:
Like Ocean's sands, the untold numbers mount.
Such thoughts by night my sleepless hours employ,
And to Thy presence I awake with joy.
But for the wicked there is wrath in store:
To the oppressor, God will say—Depart;
Men who blaspheme Him whom the Heavens adore:
Profane of tongue, and of obdurate heart.
Do not I hate those who their God oppose?
Does not my spirit burn against Thy foes?
To the oppressor, God will say—Depart;
Men who blaspheme Him whom the Heavens adore:
Profane of tongue, and of obdurate heart.
Do not I hate those who their God oppose?
Does not my spirit burn against Thy foes?
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Yea, I abhor them utterly, nor dare
Count as my friends the enemies of Heaven.
Lord, search my heart; to Thee that heart lies bare;
And cleanse my spirit from its sinful leaven.
See in my soul what yet there lurks amiss,
And lead, Oh lead me in the path to bliss.
Count as my friends the enemies of Heaven.
Lord, search my heart; to Thee that heart lies bare;
And cleanse my spirit from its sinful leaven.
See in my soul what yet there lurks amiss,
And lead, Oh lead me in the path to bliss.
| The Choir and The Oratory | |