For once a suit I did prefer,

With feeble hope, and trembling fear:
That I might have a Pisgah view,
In Jordan's swells of Canaan new.
O then, thy glory let me see,

Then cause thy face to shine on me;
And tune my heart, and tune my voice,
And language furnish to rejoice:

That all around may lend their tongue,
And sweetly join my dying song;
And Newton sav'd by grace like me,
We'll sing of sov'reign grace with thee.

THE END.

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

REFERENCE DEPARTMENT

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