Lord, when we bend be­fore Thy throne,
And our con­fess­ions pour,
Teach us to feel the sins we own,
And hate what we de­plore.

Our brok­en spir­its, pi­ty­ing see;
True pe­ni­tence impart;
And let a kind­ling glance from Thee
Beam hope up­on the heart.

When we dis­close our wants in pray­er,
May we our wills re­sign;
And not a thought our bo­soms share
That is not whol­ly Thine.

Let faith each weak pe­ti­tion fill
And waft it to the skies,
And teach our hearts ’tis good­ness still
That grants it, or de­nies.

When our re­spons­ive tongues es­say
Their grate­ful hymns to raise,
Grant that our souls may join the lay
And mount to Thee in praise.

Then on Thy glo­ries, while we dwell,
Thy mer­cies we’ll re­new,
Till love di­vine trans­port­ed tell
Our God’s our Fa­ther, too.