1 Lord, thou with an unerring beam
Surveyest all my powers;
My rising steps are watch'd by thee,
By thee, my resting hours.
2 My thoughts, scarce struggling in to birth
Great God, are known to thee:
Abroad, at home, still I'm inclos'd
With thine immensity.
3 To thee the labyrinths of life
In open view appear;
Nor steals a whisper from my lips
Without thy listening ear.
4 Behind I glance, and thou art there;
Before me shines thy name;
And 'tis thy strong almighty hand
Sustains my tender frame.
5 Such knowledge mocks the vain essays
Of my astonish'd mind;
Nor can my reason's soaring eye
Its towering summit find.
Pause.
6 Where from thy spirit shall I stretch
The pinions of my flight?
Or where, thro' nature's spacious range,
Shall I elude thy sight?
7 Scal'd I the skies; the blaze divine
Would overwhelm my soul:
Plung'd I to hell; there should I hear
Thine awful thunders roll.
8 If on a morning's darting ray
With matchless speed I rode,
And flew to the wild lonely shore,
That bounds the ocean's flood;
9 Thither thine hand, all-present God,
Must guide the wondrous way,
And thine omnipotence support
The fabric of my clay.
10 Should I involve myself around
With clouds of tenfold night,
The clouds would shine like blazing noon
Before thy piercing sight.
11 "The beams of noon, the midnight hour
"Are both alike to thee:
"O may I ne'er provoke that power,
"From which I cannot flee!"
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