Oh Thou all ho­ly, wise and just,
Whom Heav’n and earth ob­ey;
Thou on­ly ob­ject of my trust,
Whose word can sink me in­to dust,
Or raise my fee­ble clay.

Yielding to what Thou shalt pro­pose,
Behold, Thy crea­ture lies;
Resigned to dwell along with those,
Who in the si­lent grave re­pose,
Or to new health arise.

If now the last de­ci­sive day
Of my frail life draw near,
My soul while faint­ing with dis­may,
From ris­ing crimes in dread ar­ray,
Do Thou with mer­cy cheer.

Or if my past ini­qui­ty,
My dy­ing hour mo­lest,
Yet oh then save me when I die,
Nor to my part­ing soul de­ny,
An en­trance in­to rest.

But if Thy bound­less grace should spare
My fleet­ing life again;
Let sin no more my soul en­snare,
But love and warm de­vo­tion there,
In bliss­ful un­ion reign.

This for the hon­or of Thy name,
And through the Sav­ior’s blood,
Not as des­ert, but grace I claim,
And in the most sub­mis­sive frame,
Implore of Thee, my God.