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GEORGE KETT.
267
Dread marvel of free-will!
Can we withhold, or bring?
Oh, give us grace to choose Thee still,
Dear Lord, Almighty King.
Mystery yet more sublime!
In this our mortal hour,
The realms surpassing space and time
Thou puttest in our power.
New-born a princely line,
Made heirs of heavenly state,
The will to serve Thee, Lord, is Thine,
On Whom all creatures wait.
Sweet Saviour, Mystic Grace,
Who mad'st Thy servants free,
Grant us through life to seek Thy face,
And reign at last with Thee.
George Kett.
