O God! from Thee doth wisdom flow, All I can do Thou well dost know; If Thine own grace doth not sustain, Then all my labour is in vain.

As shapen in iniquity, No good by nature can I see; My heart can never serve Thee right, In folly it is sunken quite.

Yea, Saviour! I'm too mean and small To treat Thy law and claims at all; What for my neighbour's good may be, Is hid from and unknown to me,

My life is very short and weak, A thread, a passing wind may break; The splendour that the world doth prize Is vain and worthless in mine eyes.

If earth with all its gifts would dow'r, And give me honour, fame, and pow'r, And did I not enjoy Thy light, Then were I nought, 'twere deepest night.

What use, though much we've learned here, If first we do not learn Thy fear, And ne'er to serve Thee right attain? It is more loss to us than gain.

The knowledge men themselves attain May easily mislead again; And when our art hath done its best, On all sides obstacles arrest.

How many ruin now the soul Through craft, as did Ahithophel, And come, through ignorance of Thee, And through their wit, to misery.

O God, my Father! lend an ear, My supplication deign to hear; Far from me may such folly be; A better mind, Lord! give to me.

Give me the Wisdom from above Thou giv'st to all who truly love, The wisdom that before Thy throne For ever shineth in their crown.

I love her lovely face so bright, She is my joy and heart's delight, The fairest is that holdeth me, Mine eyes she pleaseth wondrously.

She's noble, and of rarest worth, From Thee, Most High! derives her birth; She's like the Monarch of the day, Rich gifts and virtues her array.

Her words are sweet and comfort well, When grief our eyes with tears doth fill; When 'neath affliction's rod we smart, 'Tis she revives the drooping heart.

She's full of grace and majesty, Preserves us from mortality; Who earnestly to get her strives, E'en when he's dying, still he lives.

She's the Creator's counsellor, In deeds and words excels in pow'r; Through her the blind world knows and sees What God in heav'n above decrees.

What mortal knows His Maker's mind? Who is he that could ever find The counsel out God hath decreed, The way wherein He'd have us tread?

The soul upon the earth doth live, Its heavy burdens sorely grieve, The faculties distracted be, From error here are not set free.

What God doth who can e'er explore, And say what He rejoiceth o'er? Unless Thou who dost ever live Dost Thine own wisdom to us give.

Then send her from Thy heav'nly throne, And give her to Thine handmaid's son; Her bountifully, Lord! impart To the poor dwelling of my heart.

Command her to abide with me, And my companion aye to be; Whene'er I labour, may she e'er Me help my heavy load to bear.

May I be taught by her wise hand To know and rightly understand That I to Thee alone may cleave, According to Thy will may live.

And give to me ability, To truth may I still open be, That sour of sweet I never make, Nor darkness for the light may take.

To Thy word give desire and love, And true to duty may I prove; To pious souls join'd may I be, Take counsel with them constantly.

And may I gladly every man, By deed and counsel when I can, To guide and succour ready be, In truth and in sincerity.

So that in ev'rything I do, In Thy love I may ever grow; For who to wisdom doth not give Himself, unlov'd by Thee must live.

FOR SUCCESS AND BLESSING IN ALL CHRISTIAN WORKS AND PURPOSES.

My God! my works and all I do, Rest only on Thy will, I know, Thy blessing prospers ever, When Thou dost guide, we persevere In right ways, erring never.

It standeth not in human might That man's devices issue right, His way with gladness endeth: God's counsel only prospers sure, 'Tis He success who sendeth.

Man often thinks in haughty mood That this or that is for his good, Yet widely he mistaketh; He often thinketh that is ill Whereof the Lord choice maketh.

But wise men e'en who joyfully Begin a good work, frequently Reach no good termination; They build a castle firm and strong, But sand is the foundation.

How many in their fancy stray High over mountain peaks away, Ere they bethink them ever; Down to the ground they fall, and vain Has been their strong endeavour.

Dear Father! therefore, who the crown And sceptre bear'st on Heav'n's throne, Who from the clouds dost lighten, Regard my words, and hear my cry, From Thy seat my soul brighten!

Vouchsafe to me the noble light That from Thy countenance so bright On pious souls aye breaketh, And where the pow'r of wisdom true Through Thine own pow'r awaketh.

Give understanding from on high, That I henceforward may rely Upon mine own will never. Be Thou my counsel, that I may Fulfil the good, Lord! ever.

Prove all things well, whate'er is good Give to me, but what flesh and blood Doth choose, withhold it ever. The highest good, the fairest part, Thy glory is and favour.

Sun of my soul! my chief delight! Whate'er is pleasing in Thy sight, Oh! may I choose and do it; And what's displeasing unto Thee, May I, O Lord! eschew it.

Is it from Thee? my work then bless; Is it of man? withhold success, And change what I'm resolving. Dost Thou not work? 'twill come to nought, In failure soon involving.

But should Thine and our enemy Begin to rage revengefully Against the good Thou'rt meaning, My comfort is, Thou canst avert His wrath, me ever screening.

Draw near, and let it easy be, What seems impossible to me, A happy issue give it; What Thou Thyself didst undertake, Thy wisdom did conceive it.

Though hard at first the work may be, And I may through the deepest sea Of bitter grief be passing, Oh! may I only driven be To sighs and pray'r unceasing.

Whoever prays and trusteth Thee, With valiant heart shall victor be O'er all that frightens ever, In thousand pieces speedily Grief's heavy stone shall shiver.

The way to good is almost wild, With thorns and hedges is it fill'd; Along this way who goeth He by the Spirit's grace at last What heav'nly joy is knoweth.

I am Thy child, my Father Thou! Thou hast abundance to bestow, Nought can I find within me; Help, that I may maintain my ground, As victor home, Lord! bring me.

Thine be the glory and the pow'r! Thy mighty works I'll more and more From heart with rapture swelling, Before Thy folk and all the world, All my life long be telling.