To thee, my God, I hourly sigh,
But not for golden stores;
Nor covet I the brightest gems
On the rich eastern shores.
Nor that deluding empty joy,
Men call a mighty name;
Nor greatness in its gayest pride,
My restless thoughts inflame.
Nor pleasure’s soft enticing charms
My fond desires allure;
For greater things than these from thee
My wishes would secure.
Those blissful, those transporting smiles
That brighten heav’n above,
The boundless riches of thy grace,
And treasures of thy love.
These are the mighty things I crave;
O! make these blessings mine,
And I the glories of the world
Text: Poems on Several Occasions (London: E. Dudley [and seven others], 1778), pp. 76-77.