1 View me Lord a worke of thine;
Shall I then lye drown'd in night ?
Might thy grace in mee but shine,
I should seeme made all of light.
2 But my soule still surfets so,
On the poysoned baytes of sinne,
That I strange and vgly growe,
All in darke, and foule within.
3 Clense mee Lord that I may kneele,
At thine Altar pure and white,
They that once thy Mercies feele,
Gaze no more on earths delight.
4 Worldly ioyes like shadows fade,
When the heau'nly light appeares,
But the cou'nants thou hast made
Endlesse, know nor dayes, nor yeares.
5 In thy word Lord is my trust,
To thy mercies fast I flye,
Though I am but clay and dust,
Yet thy grace can lift me high.
Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer