What Finite power, with ceaseless Toil
Can fathom* the Eternal Mind?
Or Who, th’Almighty Three, & One,
By Searching, to perfection find?
Angels, & Men in vain may raise
Harmonious, their Adoring Songs;
The lab’ring Thought sinks down Opprest;
And Praises Die upon their Tongues.
Yet would I lift my trembling Voice
A Portion of His Ways to Sing;
And mingling with his meanest Works
My Humble, Gratefull Tribute bring.
Thee, Heav’nly Parent I Adore,
Whose Hand with most surprising Art,
Wrought, & Combin’d this Curious Frame;
Whose Breath inspir’d my Nobler Part.
Thee, I’ll Extoll, my Father’s God;
And Ever laud that Covenant-Grace,
Which Early (as His Infant-Seed)
Intwin’d me with its kind Embrace.
Nourish’d beneath thy Tender Wing,
Thy pitying Care, each Want Supply’d;
Exploring all my feeble Moan,
E’re yet to Thee my God, I cry’d.
Thy Teachings, in the Morn of Life,
Guided my Soul in Wisdom’s Ways:
And Dawning Reason, felt ye Aid,
Of Revelation’s Brighter Rays.
Thou wast my Guardian, thou my Guide,
When with a heedless Foot I trod,
The Slipp’ry, dang’rous Paths of Youth.
(And ah! how mindless of my God!)
When the gay Blandishments of Sence,
With blooming Pleasures spread my Way,
And Sin, & Hell conspir’d to lead
My Unexperienc’d Mind astray,
Thou, with Paternal Pity mov’d,
Delivering Grace did’st then afford;
Thy Word, thy Spirit, & thy Rod,
Have oft my Wand’ring Soul Restor’d.
When thy Chastising Hand I mourn’d,
Thine Ear was open to my Cry:
And in the Hours of Deep Distress,
Was thy Salvation Ever Nigh.
Thro’ Life, thy Providence has crown’d,
Yea, & Prevented every Wish:
And in the most Endearing Friends,
Compleated all my Earthly Bliss.
But Richer Products of thy Grace
My Soul with growing Ardor Sings;
Pardon, & Peace, & Endless Joys,
A Dear, Incarnate Saviour brings.
In Pastures green, my Feet are led;
Where Salutary Water flows;
Where bending with Angelic Fruits,
The Tree of Life Immortal Grows.
In vain, my God, this gratefull Heart
Attempts to count thy Mercies o’er:
Their Sum Exceeds the Starry Worlds;
Or Num’rous Sands which spread the Shore.
What Thanks, what Praises are thy due?
Great Origin of Life & Bliss?
Source of my Comforts Here Below;
And of Eternal Happiness?
I feel! I feel! a Sacred Flame
Kindling within this Icy Breast!
Yes, while I Live, I’ll Love thy Name
With Fervors not to be exprest.
To Thee, I yield my Every Pow’r;
And consecrate my All to Thee:
Thee will I Serve, Adore, & Praise,
Thro’ Time, & to Eternity.
 The asterisk appears in the MS but without any explanatory note at the foot of the page or the end of the document.
 consecrate] MS
Text: Gen. MSS. 635, Beinecke Library, Yale University, fols 3-6.