1 Almighty Author of my frame,
To thee my vital powers belong;
Thy praise, (delightful, glorious theme !)
Demands my heart, my life, my tongue.
2 My heart, my life, my tongue are thine :
Oh be thy praise their blest employ !
But may my song with Angelsâ join?
Nor sacred awe forbid the joy ?
3 Thy glories, the seraphic lyre
On all its strings attempts in vain ;
Then how shall mortals dare aspire
In thought, to try thâ unequal strain ?
4 Yet the great Sovereign of the skies
To mortals bends a gracious ear ;
Nor the mean tribute will despise,
If offerâd with a heart sincere.
5 Great God, accept the humble praise,
And guide my heart, and guide my tongue,
While to thy name I trembling raise
The grateful, though unworthy song.
Anne Steele, Hymns, Psalms, and Poems