Low at Thy Gracious Feet I Bend

Low at thy gracious feet I bend,
My God, my everlasting friend,
Permit the claim; O let thine ear
My humble suit indulgent hear!

Lord, thou hast bid me seek thy face,
And ask of thee thy promis'd grace;
O may thy favour, bliss divine!
With fuller, clearer radiance shine.

But, O my heart, reflect with shame;
Can I prefer so bold a claim?
Conscious how often I have stray'd
By empty vanities betray'd!

How oft, ungrateful to my God,
Have trifles call'd my thoughts abroad!
Till heavenly pity saw me roam,
And bade affliction bring me home.

And when the snares of earth were broke,
By kind affliction's needful stroke,
Have not I own'd, with humble praise,
That just and right are all his ways?

Yes, gracious God, before thy throne,
My vileness and thy love I own;
O let that love, with beams divine,
Forgiving, healing, round me shine.

Whene'er, ungrateful to my God,
This heedless heart requires the rod,
Thy arm supporting I implore;
The hand that chastens can restore.

O may the kind conviction prove
A fruit of thy paternal love;
Wean me from earth, from sin refine,
And make my heart entirely thine!
~Anne Steele, 1717-1778