1 Lord, all I am is known to Thee;
In vain my soul would try
To shun Thy presence, or to flee
The notice of Thine eye.

2 Thy all-observing eye surveys,
My rising and my rest,
My public walks, my private ways,
And secrets of my breast.

3 My thoughts lie open to Thee, Lord,
Before they’re formed within;
And ere my lips pronounce the word,
Thou knowest all I mean.

4 Oh, let thine arms surround me still,
And like a bulwark prove,
To guard my soul from every ill,
Secured by sovereign love.