O thou to whom thro' natures spacious round
Are paid alike the praise and prayers of all;
Great universal parent of mankind,
Who with one common ear dost hear the cry
Of Pagan, Christian, Musselman, or Jew,
Hear my request, nor let my suppliant voice
To thee, great power uprais'd be rais'd in vain;
Nor shall inordinate desires compose
The supplications of my humble heart;
But in obedience to thy wise decrees,
Resign'd to thy omniscience, let me wait
Thy bounteous providence, which shall supply
What best is suited to my earthly lot;
In this, thy will, all gracious God, be done;
I pray not to invert thy fix'd resolves,
But conscious of my own contracted powers,
My imbecility and want of strength
To act with perfect rectitude alone,
To thee I pray, divinity supreme!
O power of mercy? mercifully hear,
Give me thy wisdom, guide me in thy ways,
Inspire my heart with thy enlivening light,
Of truth celestial, and inform my soul,
Amidst the doubts and ambigues that cloud
The futile reasonings of more futile man,
When self confounded, in our each research,
Our each enquiry for uncertain truth,
Is plung'd in that inextricable maze,
From which no other hand, save hand divine,
Can rescue and restore the wilder'd soul;
Inform my heart in that embaras'd hour,
The way the most consistent with thy will;
Teach me humility, nor let my mind,
Elated with intoxicating draughts
Of earth-sprung vanity, one hour forget
Her sole dependance on thy powerful hand:
Let universal charity inspire
And warm my breast with love for all mankind,
Nor ever let condition, country, age,
Degrade in my opinion those they love;
Has with one common care my equals made.
When the rude whirlwind of resentment tears
The agitated passions, or the rage
Of anger in wild ferment drives the soul:
Do thou with halcyon touch those jars compose,
And hush those conflicts into perfect peace;
Nor let base views of interest e'er misguide
My wayward heart from virtue's slippery path:
Still first in my remembrance be observ'd
To practice mercy, equity, and truth,
Nor when the mournful voice of pity calls
For my assistance and demands relief,
Let me not cruelly affliction spurn
And aggravate the sufferings of distress;
But far as my ability extends
To others give what mercy gives to me.
Thus, in conformity with thy commands,
Be done my every action, thought, and word;
Nor let an obstinate perverseness bind
My soul to error, which should live in thee.
What work mysterious by thy mighty hand
Has been perform'd, let me not with contempt
And vile impertinence presume to scan;
Since conscious of his littlenes, shall man
Pretend to measure science infinite;
No, when I cannot trace the obvious cause
Of each effect; let me with humbler heart
Believe thy wisdom, and adore thy ways.
Whate'er my lot, whilst in this changeful world;
Or rais'd in affluence or depress'd in want,
Still let thy hand direct my wav'ring soul,
To follow virtue and recede from vice;
That when the devious course of life is o'er,
When all our cares, our passions, and desires
Shall be by death's all conquering hand expung'd:
My soaring spirit confident in thee
And in thy word, shall with assurance rise,
To tread in that eternal round of bliss,
Where happy cherubims for ever praise
Thy perfect blssedness, thy glorious name.