Far from the fold, O God my feet

1 Far from thy fold, O God, my feet
Once moved in error's devious maze,
Nor found religious duties sweet,
Now sought thy face, nor loved thy ways.

2 With tenderest voice thou bad'st me flee
The paths which thou couldst ne'er approve;
And gently drew my soul to thee,
With cords of sweet, eternal love.

3 Now to thy footstool, Lord,I fly,
And low in self-abasement fall;
A vile, a helpless worm I lie,
And thou, my God, art all in all.

4 Dearer, far dearer to my heart
Than all the joys that earth can give;
From fame, from wealth, from friends I'd part,
Beneath thy countenance to live.

5 And when, in smiling friendship dressed,
Death bids me quit this mortal frame,
Gently reclined on Jesu's breast,
My latest breath shall bless his name.

6 Then my unfettered soul shall rise,
And soar above yon starry spheres,
Join the fall chorus of the skies,
And sing thy praise through endless years.

The Hartford Selection of Hymns from the most approved authors, 1799