Judge me, O Lord, and prove my ways,
And try my reins, and try my heart;
My faith up­on Thy pro­mise stays,
Nor from Thy law my feet de­part.

I hate to walk, I hate to sit,
With men of va­ni­ty and lies;
The scoff­er and the hy­po­crite
Are the ab­hor­rence of mine eyes.

Amongst the saints will I ap­pear
With hands well washed in in­no­cence;
But when I stand be­fore Thy bar,
The blood of Christ is my de­fense.

I love Thy ha­bi­ta­tion, Lord,
The tem­ple where Thine hon­ors dwell;
There shall I hear Thine ho­ly Word,
And there Thy works of won­der tell.

Let not my soul be joined at last
With men of trea­che­ry and blood,
Since I my days on earth have passed
Among the saints, and near my God.