1 Blest! Who in Thee, great God, confide,
Nor madly trust the Arm of Pride,
And Helps, that but betray!
Thy Mercies, Lord, all Praise surmount,
Nor Numbers cam their Sum recount,
Nor Words their Worth display.

2 With strong Desire my Bosom glows
Thy Truth and Mercy to disclose,
In Man's Relief display'd:
O let that Truth dispel my Woe,
That Mercy, Lord, around me throw
It's all-protecting Shade.