Thou knowest, Lord, for Thou omniscient art,
The depths profound of every human heart;
With all Thou art acquainted; not one part

To Thine all-seeing eye are manifest
All creatures good and bad, the worst the best,
The things accursed, the things for ever blest,

Myself I know not. Who can comprehend
His thoughts, their number, origin, or end?
Or who their character would dare defend?

Search Thou my heart, my Saviour, winnow well;
Self-confidence from mind and heart dispel,
And unto Truth's eternal citadel

Once was I wilful, in my nature wild,
The devil's bondslave, ruined, sin-defiled;
Now rescued, blood-redeemed, and reconciled,

I yet am fearful lest the flesh of sin,
Thro' my unwatchfulness a victory win,
And I Thy Holy Spirit grieve therein:

If I should err, in my deceptive zeal
E'en for Thy glory, here and now I kneel
Before Thy throne, and pray Thee to reveal

Thy Word is light! Am I, my Saviour, blind,
And know it not? Thou who art good and kind
With truth eternal, garnish heart and mind,

To not another can I make appeal:
Prerogative hast Thou to wound or heal,
To open wisdom's treasures, or to seal:

Were I not guided by Thy Spirit good,
Into forbidden paths I might intrude,
Therefore the knowledge of my finitude

Pride, by which once the covering cherub fell
Down from the mount of God to deepest hell,
Might make my heart its cursed citadel

Therefore in Thee my confidence I place,
On Thee my hope and happiness I base:
O guide my weary feet Thy path to trace,

I cannot trust my heart; it may be pure,
It may be false—Oh, search Thy servant poor,
And in the way that ever shall endure,