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Oh! keep our inmost heart, too, pure,
That anger may not there endure;
The fumes of pride he carried thence,
By the spare food of abstinence.
That when the day departing fades,
And night brings on her wonted shades;
Free from the power of earth we may
Sing unto Thee this noble lay;
All Glory to the Father be,
All Glory, Only Son, to Thee,
All Glory, Holy Paraclete,
As now, so is it ever meet.
THANKS BE TO GOD.
T. HARRISON, PRINTER, BRIGGATE, LEEDS.
