To thee what praises can I give, <br />Thou great Creator, Lord of all, <br />Whose goodness 'tis that man shall live, <br />Whose will it is that man shall fall. <br /> <br />Around where'er I cast mine eyes, <br />They pleas'd behold thy works divine; <br />My daily wants thy hand supplies-- <br />Then, O! what praises, Lord, are thine, <br /> <br />Whose heav'nly light the soul can cheer, <br />When earthly sorrows on me press; <br />Whose voice is to the sinner dear, <br />And makes his pond'rous load seem less. <br /> <br />Since life, O Lord, is but a span, <br />And soon we mingle with the dust; <br />Since thine's the power, how blest is man <br />Who in such goodness puts his trust. <br /> <br />Why doth weak mortals weep at fate, <br />Why murmur at thy holy will; <br />Thy servant, whatsoe'er my state, <br />Teach me to be contended still. <br /> <br />Keep me from Vice and all her train, <br />Who seem forgetful of thy word; <br />Keep me from Pride and Grandeur vain, <br />And may each hour be thine, O Lord. <br /> <br />Forgive me if I chance to stray, <br />And let me to thy path return; <br />There guide me in thy holy way, <br />Till life's short taper cease to burn.<br /><br />Robert Anderson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hymn-written-sunday-february-11th-1798/
