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It becomes me to be low in thy presence.
    I am nothing compared with thee;
I possess not the rank and power of angels,
  but thou hast made me what I am,
  and placed me where I am;
  help me to acquiesce in thy sovereign pleasure.
I thank thee that in the embryo state
  of my endless being
I am capable by grace of improvement;
  that I can bear thy image,
  not by submissiveness, but by design,
  and can work with thee and advance thy cause
    and glory.
But, alas, the crown has fallen from my head:
  I have sinned;
  I am alien to thee;
  my head is deceitful and wicked,
  my mind an enemy to thy law.
Yet, in my lostness thou hast laid help
  on the Mighty One
  and he comes between to put his hands
    on us both,
  my Umpire, Daysman, Mediator,
    whose blood is my peace,
    whose righteousness is my strength,
    whose condemnation is my freedom,
    whose Spirit is my power,
    whose heaven is my heritage.
Grant that I may feel more the strength
    of thy grace
  in subduing the evil of my nature,
  in loosing me from the present evil world,
  in supporting me under the trials of life,
  in enabling me to abide with thee in my valleys,
  in exercising me to have a conscience void
    of offence before thee and before men.
In all my affairs may I distinguish between
  duty and anxiety,
  and may my character and not my
    circumstances chiefly engage me.

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