Classic Poem

Thee will I praise, O Lord! in light,
Where seraphim surround thy throne;
With heart and soul, with mind and might,
Thee will I worship, Thee alone.

I bow toward thy holy place;
For Thou, in mercy still the same,
Hast magnified thy word of grace
O'er all the wonders of thy name.

In peril, when I cried to Thee,
How did thy strength renew my soul!
Kings and their realms might bend the knee,
Could I to man reveal the whole.

Thou, Lord! above all height art high,
Yet with the lowly wilt Thou dwell;
The proud far off, thy jealous eye
Shall mark, and with a look repel.

Though in the depth of trouble thrown,
With grief I shall not always strive;
Thou wilt thy suffering servant own,
And Thou the contrite heart revive.

Thy purpose then in me fulfil;
Forsake me not, for I am thine;
Perfect in me thine utmost will;
— Whate'er it be, that will be mine!