Humbly, my God, with Thee I walk,

And sweet communion hold;

With Thee in my soul's silence talk,

And all my heart unfold.

But what a heart for Thee to look

Into its depths, and read,

As in the volume of a book,

The thoughts which thence proceed!

Its vain imaginations, vain

Affections and desires,

Its thirst for glory, grandeur, gain,

False hopes, false fears, false fires:--

These would I not from Thee conceal,

Nor thus myself deceive;

No, grant me, Lord, my sins to feel,

To feel them and to grieve:--

Grieve, and with penitence confess,

Till Thou art pleased to show

Mercy on my unrighteousness,

And give me joy for woe.

How blest my lot no tongue can tell,

if such my walk might be,

As seeing Thee, invisible,

For ever seeing me.