Stand storms and fire, O what shall we
Return to heaven, that is our own,
When all the world belongs to thee?
We have no offering to impart,
But praises, and a broken heart.
3 O thou who sittest in heaven and seest
My deeds without, my thoughts within,
Be thou my prince, be thou my priest—
Command my soul, and cure my sin:
How bitter my afflictions be,