In All My Vast Concerns With Thee
In vain my soul would try
To shun thy presence, Lord, or flee
The notice of thine eye.
Thy all-surrounding sight surveys
My rising and my rest,
My public walks, my private ways,
The secrets of my breast.
My thoughts lie open to thee, Lord,
Before they’re formed within;
And, ere my lips pronounce the word,
Thou know’st the sense I mean.
O wondrous knowledge, deep and high;
Where can a creature hide?
Within thy circling arms I lie,
Beset on every side.
So let thy grace surround me still,
And like a bulwark prove,
To guard my soul from every ill,
Secured by sovereign love.