O grant me, Lord, that sweet content,
That sweetens every state;
Which no internal fears can rent,
Nor outward foes abate.
Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace—
Thy word the truth hath said—
Who, clothed with Thy great righteousness,
Thy arm his strength has made.
Grant me then, Lord, a contrite heart,
A meek and quiet breast;
Thy own unspotted mind impart,
Thy own unshaken rest.
That rest for humble souls prepared,
The bosom of Thy love;
Where patience finds her full reward,
When perfected above.
Give me then grace this rest to seek,
And, as I seek, to find;
My heart all pure, my soul all meek,
The copy of Thy mind.
So shall I know Thy utmost power,
Thy utmost glory prove;
And in eternity adore
The matchless gift of love!