From the same. To the Supreme Being

The prayers I make will then be sweet indeedIf Thou the spirit give by which I pray:My unassisted heart is barren clay,Which of its native self can nothing feed:Of good and pious works thou art the seed,Which quickens only where thou say'st it may:Unless thou shew to us thine own true wayNo man can find it: Father! thou must lead.Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mindBy which such virtue may in me be bredThat in thy holy footsteps I may tread;The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind,That I may have the power to sing of thee,And sound thy praises everlastingly.