A broken A L T A R, Lord, thy servant rears,
Made of a heart, and cemented with tears: 1.
Whose parts are as thy hand did frame;
No workman's tool hath touch'd the same.
A H E A R T alone
5Is such a stone, 2.
As nothing but
Thy pow'r doth cut. 3.
Wherefore each part
Of my hard heart
10Meets in this frame, To praise thy name.
That if I chance to hold my peace,
These stones to praise thee may not cease. 4.
Oh let thy blessed S A C R I F I C E be mine, 5.
15And sanctify this A L T A R to be thine.
Oh, all ye, wbo pass by, 6. whose eyes and mind
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blind;
To me, who took eyes that I might you find:
Was ever grief like mine?
The Princes of my people make a head 7.
5Against their Maker: they do wish me dead,