Lord, all I am is known to thee;

In vain my soul would try

To shun thy presence, or to flee

The notice of thine eye.

2 Thy all-observing eye surveys

My rising and my rest,

My public walks, my private ways,

The secrets of my breast.

3 My thoughts lie open to thee, Lord,

Before they’re formed within,

And ere my lips pronounce the word,

Thou knowest all I mean.

4 O let thine arms surround me still,

And like a bulwark prove,

To guard my soul from every ill,

Secured by sovereign love.