Verse 1
While hovering on the brink of fate,
The margin of the tomb,
In awful doubt I humbly wait
To know my instant doom,
Help me, great God of truth, and love,
To wisely weigh my end,
And rightly use, and well improve
The talent of a Friend.
Verse 2
The Giver of my faithful guide
Thee in my friend I see,
And beg I never may confide
In him, instead of Thee,
May never rob Thee of thy due,
But thankfully embrace
The instrument, whom I look thro’
And give Thee all the praise.
Verse 3
I woud not vex thy glorious eyes
Whose grace I wait to feel,
Or make thy jealous anger rise
By loving Him too well:
I woud not place him in thy stead,
Or, making him my stay,
Compel Thee to remove my reed,
And take my friend away.
Verse 4
But what my Lord is pleas’d t’ impart
May I not safely take,
And clasp the comfort to my heart,
And love him for thy sake?
I shoud injoy the boon bestow’d,
While ready to restore,
Shoud prize my friend, but prize my God
Incomparably more.
Verse 5
O woudst Thou by thy special grace
My fallen soul redeem,
And guard me from the fond excess,
Th’ idolatrous extream!
O that the Sea might drown the drop
Descending from above,
While both our souls are swallow’d up
In all the depths of love!