When all the secrets of my heart

With horror, Lord, I see,

Thine is, I find, the smallest part,

Though all be due to Thee.

Thy footsteps scarce appear within,

But lusts a countless crowd;

The immense circumference is sin,

A point is all my good.

O, break my bonds, let sin enthrall

My struggling soul no more;

Hear Thy fall’n creature’s feeble call,

Thine image, O, restore!

And though my heart, senseless and hard,

To Thee can scarcely groan,

Yet O, remember, gracious Lord,

Thou once didst write in stone!