Lord, in this dust Thy sovereign voice 
 First quicken'd love divine; 
I am all Thine,?Thy care and choice, 
 My very praise is Thine. 

I praise Thee, while Thy providence 
 In childhood frail I trace, 
For blessings given, ere dawning sense 
 Could seek or scan Thy grace; 

Blessings in boyhood's marvelling hour, 
 Bright dreams, and fancyings strange; 
Blessings, when reason's awful power 
 Gave thought a bolder range; {46} 

Blessings of friends, which to my door 
 Unask'd, unhoped, have come; 
And, choicer still, a countless store 
 Of eager smiles at home. 

Yet, Lord, in memory's fondest place 
 I shrine those seasons sad, 
When, looking up, I saw Thy face 
 In kind austereness clad. 

I would not miss one sigh or tear, 
 Heart-pang, or throbbing brow; 
Sweet was the chastisement severe, 
 And sweet its memory now. 

Yes! let the fragrant scars abide, 
 Love-tokens in Thy stead, 
Faint shadows of the spear-pierced side 
 And thorn-encompass'd head. 

And such Thy tender force be still, 
 When self would swerve or stray, 
Shaping to truth the froward will 
 Along Thy narrow way. {47} 

Deny me wealth; far, far remove 
 The lure of power or name; 
Hope thrives in straits, in weakness love, 
 And faith in this world's shame.