I dared not hope that Thou wouldst deign to come
And make this low­ly heart of mine Thy home,
That Thou wouldst deign, O King of kings, to be
E’en for one hour a so­journ­er in me;
Yet art Thou al­ways here to help, and bless,
And lift the load of my great sin­ful­ness.

I dared not ev­er hope for such a guide
To walk with me my fal­ter­ing steps be­side,
To help me when I fall, and when I stray
Constrain me gent­ly to the bet­ter way;
Yet art Thou al­ways at my side to be
A coun­sel­or and a com­fort­er to me.

I do not al­ways go where Thou dost lead,
I do not al­ways Thy soft whis­pers heed;
I fol­low oth­er lights, and, in my sin,
I vex with ma­ny a slight my friend with­in:
Yet Thou dost not, though grieved, from me de­part,
But guard­est still Thy place with­in my heart.