O That Mine Eye Might Closèd Be

O that mine eye might clos­èd be

To what con­cerns me not to see.

That deaf­ness might pos­sess my ear

To what con­cerns me not to hear.

That truth my tongue might ev­er tie

From speak­ing words of van­ity.

That no vain thought might ev­er rest

Or be con­ceived with­in my breast.

So that in deed and word and thought

Glory may un­to God be wrought.

But are wish­es? Lord mine eye

Is fixed on Thee

to Thee I cry!

Cleanse

Lord

and pu­ri­fy my heart

And make it clean in ev­ery part.

And when ’tis pure

Lord

keep it so

For that is more than I can do.