My God, ac­cept my ear­ly vows,
Like morn­ing in­cense in Thine house;
And let my night­ly wor­ship rise
Sweet as the ev­en­ing sac­ri­fice.

Watch o’er my lips, and guard them, Lord,
From eve­ry rash and heed­less word;
Nor let my feet in­cline to tread
The guil­ty path where sin­ners lead.

O may the right­eous, when I stray,
Smite, and re­prove my wan­der­ing way!
Their gen­tle words, like oint­ment shed,
Shall ne­ver bruise, but cheer my head.

When I be­hold them pressed with grief,
I’ll cry to Heav’n for their re­lief;
And by my warm pe­ti­tions prove
How much I prize their faith­ful love.