O wondrous Lord! my soul would be
Still more and more conform’d to thee,
Would lose the pride, the taint of sin,
That burns these fever’d veins within,
And learn of Thee, the lowly One,
And like thee, all my journey run,
Above the world, and all its mirth,
Yet weeping still with weeping earth.
7.
Oh! in thy light, be mine to go,