MY soul lies grovelling low,

MY soul lies grovelling low, Still cleaving to the dust: Thy quickening grace, O Lord, bestow, For in Thy word I trust.

Make me to understand Thy precepts and Thy will; Thy wondrous works on every hand, I'll sing and talk of still.

My soul, oppress'd with grief, In heaviness melts down; Oh strengthen me and send relief, And Thou shalt wear the crown.

Remove from me the voice Of falsehood and deceit; The way of truth is now my choice, Thy word to me is sweet.

Thy testimony stands, And never can depart; I'll run the way of Thy commands