1 Let all the heathen writers join,
To form one perfect book:
Great God! if once compar'd with thine,
How mean their writings look!

2 Not the most perfect rules they gave
Could show one sin forgiv'n,
Nor lead a step beyond the grave,
But thine conduct to heav'n.

3 Lord, I have made thy word my choice,
My lasting heritage;--
There shall my noblest pow'rs rejoice,
My warmest thoughts engage.

4 I'll read the hist'ries of thy love,
And keep thy laws in sight,
While through thy promises I rove
With ever fresh delight.

5 'Tis a broad land of wealth unknown,
Where springs of life arise,
Seeds of immortal bliss are sown,
And hidden glory lies.