Almighty author of my frame,
To thee my vital powers belong;
Thy praise, (delightful, glorious theme!)
Demands my heart, my life, my tongue.
My heart, my life, my tongue are thine:
Oh be thy praise their blest employ!
But may my song with Angels join?
Nor sacred awe forbid the joy?
Thy glories, the seraphic lyre
On all its strings attempts in vain;
Then how shall mortals dare aspire
In thought, to try th’unequal strain?
Yet the great Sovereign of the skies
To mortals bends a gracious ear;
Nor the mean tribute will despise,
If offer’d with a heart sincere.
Great God, accept the humble praise,
And guide my heart, and guide my tongue,
While to thy name I trembling raise
The grateful, though unworthy song.
Collection of Hymns Adapted to Public Worship, no. 46 (all stanzas); Poems, 1780, vol. 1, pp. 1-2; MS, Steele Collection, Angus Library, Regents Park College, STE 3/1/1 no. 1; also Nonconformist Women Writers, vol. 1, pp. 31-32.