I. Almighty author of my frame,
To thee my vital pow'rs belong;
Thy praise, (delightful, glorious theme!)
Demands my heart, my life, my tongue.

II. My heart, my life, my tongue are thine:
Oh be thy praise their best employ!
But may my song with Angels join?
Nor sacred awe forbid the joy?

III. Thy glories, the seraphic lyre
On all its strings attemps in vain;
Then how shall mortals dare aspire
In thought, to try th'unequal strain?

IV. Yet the Sov'reign of the skies
To mortals bends a gracious ear;
Nor the mean tribute will despise,
If offer'd with a heart sincere.

V. Great God, accept the humble praise,
And guide my heart, and guide my tongue,
while to thy name I trembling raise
The grateful, tho' unworthy song.