The poem
(Jeremiah, xxiii.6)
My God, how perfect are Thy ways! But mine polluted are; Sin twines itself about my praise, And slides into my prayer.
When I would speak what Thou hast done To save me from my sin, I cannot make Thy mercies known, But self-applause creeps in.
Divine desire, that holy flame Thy grace creates in me; Alas! impatience is its name, When it returns to Thee.
This heart, a fountain of vile thoughts. How does it overflow, While self upon the surface floats, Still bubbling from below.
Let others in the gaudy dress Of fancied merit shine; The Lord shall be my righteousness, The Lord forever mine.