CCLXXIX. The Convert

1 Far from thy fold, O God, my feet
Once mov'd in error's devious maze,
Nor found religious duties sweet,
Now sought thy face, nor lov'd thy ways.

2 With tend'rest voice thou bad'st me flee
The paths which thou couldst ne'er approve;
And gently drew my soul to thee,
With cords of sweet, eternal love.

3 Now to thy footstool, Lord,I fly,
And low in self-abasement fall;
A vile, a helpless worm I lie,
And thou, my God, art all in all.

4 Dearer, far dearer to my heart
Than all the joys that earth can give;
From fame, from wealth, from friends I'd part,
Beneath thy countenance to live.

5 And when, in smiling friendship drest,
Death bids me quit this mortal frame,
Gently reclin'd on Jesu's breast,
My latest breath shall bless his name.

6 Then my unfetter'd soul shall rise,
And soar above yon starry spheres,
Join the fall chorus of the skies,
And sing thy praise through endless years.

Text Information
First Line: Far from thy fold, O God, my feet
Title: The Convert
Meter: L. M.
Publication Date: 1799
Topic: Convert
Tune Information
(No tune information)



Suggestions or corrections? Contact us