Jesus, my Sav­ior, let me be
More per­fect­ly con­formed to Thee;
Implant each grace, each sin de­throne,
And form my tem­per like Thine own.

My foe, when hun­gry, let me feed,
Share in his grief, sup­ply his need;
The haugh­ty frown may I not fear,
But with a low­ly meek­ness bear.

Let the en­ven­omed heart and tongue,
The hand out­stretched to do me wrong,
Excite no feel­ing in my breast,
But such as Je­sus once ex­pressed.

To others let me al­ways give
What I from oth­ers would re­ceive;
Good deeds for ev­il ones re­turn,
Nor when pro­voked, with an­ger burn.

This will pro­claim how bright ad fair,
The pre­cepts of the Gos­pel are!
And God Him­self, the God of love,
His own re­semb­lance will app­rove.