Shall pomp and grandeur be my guide,

And fill me with presumptuous pride?

No, Lord, I'll humbly trust in thee,
For thou wert meek and poor for me!

Shall carnal pleasures win my praise?

They lead but in destructive ways.

Prevent me, Lord; I'll follow thee,

For all thy paths are peace to me.

Shall I on India's wealth rely?

Riches in Heaven can nothing buy.

No, Lord; my trust shall rest in thee:

Thy blood has purchas'd Heav'n for me.

Shall I my own good actions plead,

And say that I no Saviour need!

Vain-impious boast! Lord, make me whole;
Grant me a pure and perfect soul

To know-to love-to copy thee;
But only thou can'st plead for me.

To shew thy feet the way?

How long wilt thou the paths pursue

Of vanity and falsehood too,

That lead thy feet astray?

Know, that the Lord hath set apart

The man of new and contrite heart,

To share his gracious love:

The Lord shall hear his suppliant voice,

And make his ransom'd soul rejoice,

Within his courts above.

But thou, O sinner, tremble! Go

Muse on the wrath of God below,

At midnight's solemn hour;

And ere return the dawn of day,

Of all thy sins for pardon pray,

And grace to sin no more.