O Lord in me there lieth nought But to thy search revealed lies; For when I sit Thou markest it: Nor 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 com'st 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 earthly 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 should I assay.
O sun, whom light nor flight can match! Suppose thy lightful flightful wings Thou lend to me, And I could flee As 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, O Father of all lights, to thee.
