1 LORD, I would dwell with Thee,
On Thy most holy hill:
O shed Thy grace abroad in me,
To mold me to Thy will.

2 Thy gate of pearl stands wide
For those who walk upright;
But those who basely turn aside
You banish from Thy sight.

3 O tame my tongue to peace,
And tune my heart to love;
From all reproaches may I cease,
Made harmless as a dove.

4 The vile, though proudly great,
No flatterer can find in me;
I count Thy saints of poor estate
Far nobler company.

5 Faithful, but meekly kind;
Gentle, yet boldly true;
I would possess the perfect mind
Which in my LORD I view.

6 But, LORD, these graces all
Thy Spirit's work must be;
To Thee, through Jesu's blood I call,
Create them all in me.