LORD, in me there lieth nought But to thy search revealed lies;

For when I sit

Thou markest it;

No less thou notest when I rise;

Yea, closest closet of my thought

Hath open windows to thine eyes.

Thou walkest with me when I walk;
When to my bed for rest I go,

I find thee there

And everywhere;

Not youngest thought in me doth grow,

No, not one word I cast to talk,

But, yet unuttered, thou dost know.

If forth I march, thou goest before;

If back I turn, thou comest behind;

So forth nor back Thy guard I lack;

Nay, on me too thy hand I find.

Well I thy wisdom may adore,

But never reach with earthy mind.

To shun thy notice, leave thine eye,

O ! whither might I take my way?

To starry sphere?

Thy throne is there.

To dead men’s undelightsome stay?

There is thy walk, and there to lie

Unknown in vain I should assay.

O sun, whom light nor flight can match,

Suppose thy lightful flightful wings

Thou lend to me,

And I could flee

So far as thee the evening brings,

Even led to west he would me catch,

Nor should I lurk with western things.

Do thou thy best, O secret night,

In sable veil to cover me,

Thy sable veil

Shall vainly fail;

With day unmasked my night shall be;

For night is day, and darkness light,

Father of all lights, to thee.

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