CLXIII Fain would my thoughts fly up to Thee,
But when I offer, still the world
Lays clogs upon my mind.
Sometimes I climb a little way
And thence look down below;
How nothing, there, do all things seem,
That here make such a show!
Then round about I turn my eyes
To feast my hungry sight;
I meet with Heaven in every thing,
In every thing delight.
When I have thus triumph'd awhile,
And think to build my nest,
Some cross conceits come fluttering by,
And interrupt my rest.
Then to the earth again I fall,
And from my low dust cry,
'Twas not in my wing, LORD, but Thine,
That I got up so high.
And now, my GOD, whether I rise,
Or still lie down in dust,
Both I submit to Thy blest will;
In both, on Thee I trust.
Guide Thou my way, who art Thyself
My everlasting End,
That every step, or swift, or slow,
Still to Thyself may tend!
To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
One consubstantial Three,
All highest praise, all humblest thanks,
Now and for ever be!