O God, whose favourable eye
      The sin-sick soul revives,

O God, whose favourable eye
      The sin-sick soul revives,
Holy and heavenly is the joy
      Thy shining presence gives.

Not such as hypocrites suppose,
      Who with a graceless heart
Taste not of thee, but drink a dose
      Prepared by Satan's art.

Intoxicating joys are theirs,
      Who while they boast their light,
And seem to soar above the stats,
      Are plunging into night.

Lulled in a soft and fatal sleep,
      They sin and yet rejoice;
Were they indeed the Saviour's sheep,
      Would they not hear his voice?

Be mine the comforts that reclaim
      The soul from Satan's power;
That make me blush for what I am,
      And hate my sin the more.

'Tis joy enough, my All in All,
      At thy dear feet to lie;
Thou wilt not let me lower fall,
      And none can higher fly.

~ William Cowper

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