1 O Lord, I am not proud of Heart,
nor cast a scornful Eye;
Nor my aspiring Thoughts employ
in Things for me to high.
2 With Infant Innocence thou know'st
I have my self demean'd;
Compos'd to quiet, like a Babe
that from the Breast is wean'd.

3 Like me let Isr'el hope in God,
his Aid alone implore;
Both now and ever trust in him,
who lives for evermore.